What Secrets They Keep
by Delaney
Summary: In order to save the lives of the Hogwarts students and Staff, Avonell must risk committing the most sinful act any Healer can make.
1. Arrival of the New Professor

Disclaimer:  The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them.  However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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The door to the last car on the Hogwart's Express stood open, Harry headed for it hoping that it meant the car was empty.  But when he reached the door he found, to his disappointment, that the car had one occupant already.  A woman, perhaps in her early 40's sat in the window seat, on her lap was what Harry recognized to be a notebook computer.

She was a pleasant looking woman, dressed in a full-length dress of silver and white brocade.  Her long thick black hair had been pulled loosely back into pony tale, some of which cascaded over one shoulder.  She continued typing on the computer and only looked up as Ron and Hermione joined Harry.

"Every where else is fu…" Ron was saying, but he stopped in mid sentence as he saw the woman.

She smiled, a warm friendly smile, and her azure blue eyes seemed to sparkle.

"Would you care to join me?" she asked in a pleasant voice.  "I would enjoy the company."

"Yes, thank you," Harry replied, slipping into the car followed by Ron and Hermione.

"Schön, make room, we have company." The woman said softly.  The ball of shadowy gray fur beside her uncurled itself to reveal a large sleek cat.   The cat stretched luxuriously then jumped to the floor and disappeared into a wicker carrier under the woman's seat, grumbling to itself.

"Is that a computer?"  Hermione asked.  "You know that won't work at Hogwarts."

The woman closed the notebook and slid it into a black leather case on the opposite seat, then tucked the case away beside her.

 "Perhaps." She smiled.  "I'm Doctor Avonell, by the way."

"Doctor?" Ron questioned.

Avonell smiled and chuckled lightly, "I'm sorry that's my mundane title.  I'm Professor Malana Avonell."

"Mundane?"  Harry asked.  He found this woman very intriguing, if she was a Professor; she was certainly unlike any they had met before.  Harry could not remember any Witch or Wizard, let alone a teacher, who seemed as comfortable with technology, as Professor Avonell apparently, was.

Avonell sighed.  "I'm sorry, I'm not from around here.  I believe your word for it is … Muggle."

"You're from America, aren't you?"  Hermione stated more then asked.  "I can tell by your accent."

Avonell raised one eyebrow.  "Now, I was of the opinion the three of you were the ones with the accent." She said with mocked indignity, "But yes, I'm from the United States."

"Are you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"  Ron wanted to know.

Avonell shook her head, "Afraid not, I'm filling in for the Rune and Ancient Languages Professor."

"Oh, we haven't introduced ourselves," Hermione suddenly remembered.  "I'm Hermione Granger."  She extended her hand.

Avonell shook the girl's hand, and smiled yet again.

"Glad to meet you Ms. Granger."

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron chimed in shaking her hand as well.

"And I'm Harry Potter." Harry concluded receiving his own handshake.

"Well, I am pleased to meet all of you.  Tell me what year are the three of you in?"  Avonell replied.

"Sixth." Hermione told her.

Harry dropped into the seat next to Professor Avonell as the train lurched into motion.  He was surprised that the Professor hadn't made a comment about the famous Harry Potter.  But then, he supposed, maybe she hadn't heard of him.  After all she was from America.

"I have a cat too," Hermione was saying, "He's name is Crookshanks and he's a ginger tabby.  But he's riding with the luggage this year."  She trailed off remembering the commotion the cat had made during the trip last year.

"Well," Avonell said in a rather motherly tone, "I'm sure he's a good cat."

The four of them continued to talk until the door to their compartment slid open and the plump witch with the food trolley appeared.

"Anything from the cart?" she said, then seeing Professor Avonell, she grinned and added cheerfully "Professor how good it is to see you again."

Avonell returned the smile.  "Thank you, it's good to be back."

They made their purchases and the plump witch closed the door and moved off.

There was a sound, somewhere between a meow and purring from under the Professor.  Then the gray cat slithered out of the carrier and leapt onto the seat between Harry and Professor Avonell.  Schön paused a moment, looking up at Harry, his brilliant green eyes studying the boy.  Then he placed a paw on Harry's forearm and raised himself up to Harry's face and briefly touched noises. 

"Well, I'm impressed," Professor Avonell, said. "Schön doesn't do that to just anyone.  He must like you Mr. Potter." 

She broke of a peace of the caldron cake she had bought and gave it to the cat, who took it eagerly. 

"Well, he's a … very nice cat."  Harry stammered, not knowing how to take what she had just said.

She only smiled back.  

Professor Avonell didn't talk too much after that, allowing the three youths to run the conversation themselves.  From time to time Harry stole a glance at this new Rune Professor.  He liked her; she was friendly, warm and didn't make a fuss over his scar.  In fact she didn't seem to have even noticed.

"So," Harry started slowly after nearly an hour. "You've been at Hogwarts before?"

Avonell, who had been watching out the window, turned he attention to the young man seated beside her.

"Yes, nearly twenty years ago." She said.

"Where you a student then?" Ron followed.

Avonell shook her head;  "No I was the Rune teacher then as well."

"Then, did you know my father, James Potter?" Harry asked.  Ron and Hermione fell silent.

Avonell still wore a smile, but as she looked at Harry, he thought her eyes had grown very sad.  She looked way, back out the window again.

"Yes," she replied softly, her tone distant and sorrowful, "yes I knew James."

There was a long silence.  Harry now regretted having asked his question.  Avonell drew in a long breath and turned back to the three.

"James was, well he could be a bit of a bully at times, and he broke every rule he could, but…" she paused.  "Harry your father as a very gifted wizard, and beneath all his mischievousness, he was a good man. Unfortunately, I … " she trailed off.  "I was very sad when I was told of his death." She concluded after a moment.

The tension in the car was so thick, that when the door was thrown open all four of them jumped.

In the doorway stood Draco Malfoy, along with the ever present Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

"Well, there you are Potter," Malfoy drawled,  "Did the famous Harry Potter have a good summer with his Muggle relatives?"  He pronounced the word Muggle with as much distaste as he possible could. 

"Well would you look at this," Avonell said coldly,  "the very image of Lucius Malfoy at age 16, and just as ill mannered as well."

"You know my Father?" Malfoy asked seeing the Professor for the first time.

"Oh yes, indeed I do."  Avonell said in a tone of warning.

If Professor Avonell was going to say anything further, it was driven away as the train lurched and began to slow.

"That's not right," Avonell said standing up, and glancing in the direction of the front of the train.  She turned back to the three boys in the doorway.

"Return to you own car."  She told them sternly.

Malfoy opened his mouth to object, but she stopped him with a harsh glare.

"Do as you are told." Avonell spoke softly but forcefully.

Malfoy turned and retreated back up the train.

"The three of you stay here.  I'm going to find out what's wrong."  She said turning to Ron, Hermione and Harry, "Schön, stay here."

With that she strode from the compartment, sliding the door shut behind her.

The three exchanged nervous looks.  The train slowed to a stop.

"You don't think its Dementors again?"  Hermione asked sheepishly.

Ron and Harry didn't answer.   Schön leapt into Harry's lap and put his front paws on the window in the car door, his tail swishing sharply.

After what seemed like an hour, but was more like five minutes, Professor Avonell returned.

"False alarm," she announced as she pushed open the door. "Just a couple of cows on the track."

"Cows?" Ron repeated, "why couldn't they just magic them off the tracks?"

"Too many Mund… I mean Muggles." Avonell told them, as she slipped past them and took her seat. 

The train started moving again and before long they were speeding through the countryside once more.

The sun had set fully by the time they arrived at the Hogsmeade station.

"Oh good," Ron groaned, "I'm starving."

Avonell rose and pulled the carrier out from under the seat.

"In you go," she told the cat, who slipped inside.  She retrieved the black leather case from the seat and slung it onto her shoulder.

As the emerged into the platform, Harry turned to the Professor. 

"Could I carry something for you?" He asked.

Ron gave him a wide-eyed, you've got to be kidding look.

Avonell hesitated a moment, then un-slung the briefcase from her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said handing it to Harry. "If we get separated, just give then bag to Hagrid, or Dumbledore or McGonagall."  The Professor told him.  "They'll get it back to me."

Harry slung the case over his own shoulder and followed after her, Ron and Hermione closely behind.

"There's enough room in the carriages for four people."  Harry told her.  Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Unless you want to ride alone." Hermione added.

Professor Avonell stopped and turned to the three of them, laughing lightly.

"I don't mind, but I am bit surprised that you don't want some time to yourselves." She returned.

Ron and Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"Perhaps, I better go it alone."  Avonell added gently taking in the expressions of Harry's friends. 

With that she climbed into a carriage, closing the door behind her.  The carriage lumbered off.

"Wait you forgot…" Hermione called.

"Too late," Ron said watching the carriage disappear into the darkness.  "Guess we'll just have to give her case to Hagrid."

"Come on," Harry said starting for the next available carriage, "Maybe we can catch up to her at the castle."

 Hermione rolled her eyes and followed after him, Ron bringing up the rear.

****

"So I like her." Harry protested, "What's wrong with that?"

Hermione tried to keep her seat as the carriage swayed from side to side as it rolled toward the castle.

"It's just a crush." She told him, in that annoying I-know-more-then-you-do tone of hers.

"It's not like that!" Harry retorted, pulling the briefcase closer to his chest.  "I just like her.  I don't think I'm in lover with her."

Harry thought for a moment.  He did like Professor Avonell; that was true.  She had been friendly, kind and hadn't made him feel like some freak in a sideshow.  But he did feel very drawn to her.  Like she was someone he should remember.  He just couldn't place from where or when.

"She's comfortable, that's all." Harry said finally.

"Like a surrogate mother perhaps?"  Hermione countered.

"What's a surrogate?" Ron asked.

"A substitute." She informed Ron.

Harry shrugged, "Maybe, but I don't think so.  She's more like another student then a teacher."

"Well, you aren't going to have her for one of your classes."  Hermione reminded him.

The carriage jerked to a stop.

As they piled out of the carriage in front of the castle, Harry caught a glimpse of Professor Avonell as she disappeared through the doors into the castle.

"Come on," Harry urged his friends, "she just went inside."

Ron and Hermione followed, resigned to the fact that they were not going to be able to stop him.  The three squeezed into a throng of students in the front hall.  Harry looked around wildly trying to locate the new Professor.

"Malana?" a familiar voice called over the drone of voices.

Harry, Ron and Hermione turned to the stairs leading to the second floor.  Professor McGonagall was hurrying down them with the biggest smile on her face that the three could every remember seeing on the usually reserved Professor.  At the foot of the step, Professor Avonell stopped to put down the wicker cat carrier.  Harry began working his way through the crowd towards Avonell.

McGonagall reached the bottom of the steps and the two women embraced like long lost sisters.

"I was so pleased when Albus told me you were returning," McGonagall was saying as the intrepid trio came within a few feet of the two Professors.  Harry stopped not wanting to interrupt the Professors.

"Oh it is good to be back," Avonell replied taking McGonagall's hands in hers, "I have missed this place."

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Avonell!" the voice was low and cold; with enough venom in the tone to make even McGonagall flinched.  "Returned to reek more havoc in the lives of others?" If a voice alone could kill that one should have kill a dozen.  

Professor Severus Snape had come up behind Avonell.  If Harry had ever thought that Snape had reserved his most hateful looks for him alone, he had been totally wrong.  The Potions Master's face reflected such hatred and loathing that Harry feared for he life.

Avonell turned to face Snap, regarding him coldly.  Nearly a foot taller then the woman, he loomed over her like a malevolent leviathan.

"I've been accused of far worse things." She said dryly.

"And been guilty of all of them, I'm sure." Snap sneered back at her.

"Perhaps."  She answered smugly crossing her arms over her chest.  

Snape glared at her for a moment longer then swept off to the Great Hall.

McGonagall and Avonell watched after him.

"Well," Avonell sighed heavily, "I see that boy knows how to nurture a resentment."

"He's not a boy any longer, Malana." McGonagall whispered. 

Just as Harry thought it would be safe to make his presence known, another familiar voice rang out.

"Professor Avonell, welcome back to Hogwarts."  It was Dumbledore this time.  He had emerged out of the Great Hall and was wading his way through the students.

"Head Master," Avonell replied her tones back to the warm friendly ones, "Thank you for asking me back."

"Come I'm sure you'd like to freshen up before the Banquet.  I'll show you to your rooms."  He said shaking her hand.

"Professor…" Harry started.

Both Dumbledore and Avonell turned in his direction.

"You forgot this."  Harry took the briefcase off his shoulder and extended it toward her.

"Indeed I have." She said gratefully.  "Thank you Mr. Potter."  She then turned back to Dumbledore, "Shall we?"

"Minerva, I believe Hagrid has just arrived with the first years."  The Head Master said as he turned to head up the stairs.

McGonagall nodded then turned her attention to the three sixth years standing before her.

"Well, go take your seats." She told them, then moved off for the front doors.


	2. Assignment of Adversaires

Disclaimer:  The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them.  However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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Professor Severus Snape erupted into the Great Hall in a cloud of bellowing black robes.  His stride was sharp, his fists clinched and his face was a study in anger.  Students scattered in his wake, not wanting to be the brunt of his obvious rage.  It wasn't until he reached the staff table that anyone attempted to approach him.

Professor Sibyll Trelawney, the school's Divination teacher, glided towards him.  Her many beads and bangles making soft rattling noises with each step.

"Professor Snape," she spoke in her usual misty voice, "I must warn you, someone from your past, someone who caused you great pain is returning."

Snape rounded on her, his eyes a blaze with anger.

"Stupid woman, she already here." He growled, causing Trelawney to shy back a step.

"Yes," Trelawney continued, determined not to let him intimidate her.  "But you know what secretes they keep.  Beware, the end has not yet come to past."

Snape turned away form the Divination teacher.

***

"Are you sure your doing the right thing, Albus?"  Avonell asked as she and Dumbledore reached the top step.

"How do you mean?" He returned gently.

Avonell sighed.  "I sense that the boy, Harry, still hasn't been told the entire truth." She told him.

"Ah, yes.  Malana it is in his best interest this way."

"I don't know." She said shaking her head, "It's not always easy to tell what's in someone else's best interest."

"Harry knows enough," Dumbledore assured her.  "The truth is not always the easiest thing to handle, especially when it's a truth you'd rather not know."

Avonell sped up a few steps then turned back to the Headmaster, forcing him to come to a stop.

"Albus, the longer you withhold this from the boy, the more he will resent you when he does learn the truth." She warned.

"You under estimate Harry." Dumbledore's pale blue eyes met hers, "He is an extraordinary young Wizard."  He moved past her, "I believe you will be quite pleased with where we've put your rooms." 

Avonell followed after him.

"Harry has been through a great deal in the last 5 years.  He can benefit a great deal from your help." The Headmaster continued.

"I'm not disputing that." she replied, "Form what you have told me, it's surprising he's as well off as he is.  But you limit my usefulness by restricting what I'm permitted to tell him."

"I am confident that you will success, even with the limitations you believe have been placed on you."

"You do understand that to befriend Potter, I will need to befriend Weasley and Granger as well?"

"I think you will find Ms Granger very bright student.  Mr. Weasley has a great deal of potential, if he would only apply himself." Dumbledore commented casually.

Schön yowled from inside his carrier.

"I know, I know." Avonell sighed under her breath.

They walked in silence for a while.

"I am glad you have come back."  Dumbledore said at last, breaking the silence.  "You have been gone far too long."

Avonell gave him a sincere smile.  "You know I could never refuse you, Albus.  I only hope I can live up to your expectations."

Dumbledore stopped before a door.  "Your office." He said opening the door.  "Your classroom is next door.  I think you will be pleased."  He gave her a sly wink. 

Avonell stepped inside.  It was her old office, complete with the massive desk, floor to ceiling bookcases, and large stone fireplace. She turned back to him.

"Now if you will excuse me, I must be getting back to the Banquet Hall before the sorting begins."  He turned to leave.  After a few steps, however, he turned back.

"I have faith in you, Malana." He told her.

"I will do my best Headmaster." She replied inclining her head slightly.

"That's all I ask."

Avonell closed the door and surveyed the office. She set the carrier down and opened it.  Schön leapt gracefully out and strutted around the room.

"Now how did they get my office down here?" she wondered aloud. 

"Meo-o-o-w," Schön crooned.

"Hmm…Do you think so?"

She un-slung her briefcase from her shoulder and placed it on the desk.  She moved to the center section of the bookcase on the back wall and ran her finger along the row of books at eye level.  She smiled as she stopped on an old leather bound volume of Broca's Brain by Carl Sagan.  She tipped the book out and the section of shelves dropped back a short distance then slid aside.

The room beyond was a large and well-appointed living chamber.  For Avonell, it was stepping back twenty years.

"Schön, would you look at this."  She breathed.

A glint of light caught her eye and she turned toward its source.  There in the far corner stood a huge ornately frame mirror.

"By the grace of … I don't believe it." She said, "It's still here."

She moved to stand before the mirror.  It was as tall as a door and just a little wider, with a wide dark gray frame.  Gently she ran her fingers over the motifs in relief on the frame.  Then suddenly she frowned.

"I don't believe they let Dumbledore keep this after my departure." She told the cat.  "What if they had learned how it works?"

"Purr-ow," the cat answered.

Standing on tiptoe Avonell reached up to the central design above the mirror and digging her nails into its sides, managed to wrench a small disk out of the frame.

"Well, at least it safe now."

***

Hermione's first Rune class of the year was that Friday.  She sat at a front row desk waiting for Professor Avonell's arrival.  At the front of the classroom stood a large blackboard on which where several carefully drawn sets of symbols, which she studied intently.  

The students fell into silence as the door of the classroom opened.  Professor Avonell entered, closing the door behind her.  She moved between the rows of desks with an almost feline grace.  Once at the front of the class she turned and regarded them, meeting each student's eyes for a brief moment.

"Good afternoon.  I am Professor Avonell, and I will be your Rune teacher this year." She spoke with a gentle authority.  "This year will be studying a few additional languages." She indicated the blackboard.  "The first is, of course, the Rune dialect of the Old Norse.  The second is Egyptian Hieroglyphs, the third is, Hieratic also from Egypt." she paused and stared at something at the back of the room.  The class turned in their seats to see what had caught her attention.

Schön slunk up the aisle and leapt gracefully on to the Professor's desk, leaving a trail of mud in his wake.

"And these," Avonell said putting her hands on her hips, "are muddy paw prints all over my papers."  She scolded.

She scooped the animal up off the desk and holding him out in front of her, she swept to the back of the classroom to a second door, muttering as she went.

"Think you'd know better then this, young man.  Mr. Filch is going to be furious."   

She pushed the door open and deposited the cat inside.

"And don't you dare go anywhere near my desk." She told him then closed the door.

She started back to the front.

"You know," she said playfully, "laughter is permitted."

This had the desired effect of relaxing the students as a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

Avonell waved her hand and the muddy paw prints winked out of existence. 

"Now, where was I?" she sighed, and Hermione's hand shot into the air.

The rest of the class went quickly.

As the other students filed out of the classroom, Hermione lagged behind.

"Is there something I can help you with Ms Granger?" Avonell asked kindly.

"Well," the girl started, moving toward the Professor.  "Could I ask you a question?"

Avonell leaned against the desk and regarded her.

"I don't see why not." She replied.

"You said your title was Doctor," Hermione voice was barely above a whisper.  "I just wanted to know."  She moved closer.  "A Doctor of what?"

"You're Muggle born aren't you?" The Professor asked.

"Yes."

Someone at the back of the classroom cleared their throat.

"May I help you Professor?" Avonell asked in an annoyed tone.  

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, to find Professor Snape standing near the door.

"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you." He said silkily.

Avonell turned her attention back to her student.

"Truth be known, it has no relevance here." She whispered as she reached out and brushed the girls bangs out of her eyes, her fingers tips momentarily pausing over the student's temple.  Hermione smiled.

"Now if you will excuse me, I've been summonsed."  She gave Hermione a quick wink before standing up.

Hermione watched as Avonell walked to the back of the room and left with Snape at her heals.

***

"I know where Dumbledore's office is," Avonell said tersely, "you don't need to escort me."

"I'm not escorting you," Snape snarled, "I was told to bring you to the Headmaster's office, and that's exactly what I will do."

A crowed of students moved down the corroder toward the two Professors, curtailing any further comment.  Avonell managed to keep pace with Snape in spite of the difference in their height.  At last the arrived at the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's chambers.

"String Mints" Snape muttered.

"He always had a sweet tooth," Avonell giggled.

Snape gave her a disapproving glance.  They stepped onto the moving spiral staircase and road to the top in silence.  At the top the huge doors stood open.

"Ah, Professors, thank you for coming." Dumbledore said as he descended the stairs at the back of his office.

"You wanted to see me?" Avonell asked as she crossed the room.

"I wanted to see both of you." He returned calmly.

Dumbledore walked to a large cupboard and removed a rolled piece of parchment.

"I would like the two of you to take a look at this," he said handing the scroll to Avonell.

Slowly she untied the ribbon closing the scroll and unfurled it.  The parchment was covered with writing of some strange style.  Snape peered over her shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up at Dumbledore.

"I'm hoping you will be able to tell us." He replied.

"Ok," she continued.  "Where did it come from?"  She handed the scroll to Snape.

"A messenger delivered it to the Hogwarts Express the day the students arrived." Dumbledore explained.

"So it wasn't just cows." She mussed.

"Cows?" Snape echoed.

Avonell shook her head.  "That's how it got here, now where did it come from?"

"We are not sure.  It is known that it was on its way to Voldemort, when our emissary intercepted it." The Headmaster continued.

Avonell glanced over her shoulder at Snape who was still studying the scroll.

"There doesn't seem to be any magic about it, so we where hoping the two you might be able to translate it."  Dumbledore concluded.

"That's understandable, but why include Severus?" she queried dryly.

"As I remember it, Severus here was one of your best students." 

"Headmaster," Snape began.

"No arguments," Dumbledore interrupted him.  "Now the two of you will work on this scroll and give us your best effort in translating it."  He sounded as if he were talking to disobedient students.

Avonell moved closer.  "In case you haven't noticed, Headmaster, Severus and I don't seem to be on the best terms at the moment." She whispered.

Dumbledore nodded.  "Then I suggest you settle your differences and work together." His voice calm and even.  "We need to know what's in that scroll."

Snape re-rolled the parchment and handed it back to Avonell abruptly.

"That will be all." Dumbledore said dismissively.

Avonell turned to Snape and shrugged.  "I guess we can go." She sighed, then in a whisper only Snape could hear she added "End of discussion." 


	3. Truce

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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The hallways were devoid of students, when Professors Snape and Avonell descended from Headmaster Dumbledore's office, for which Avonell was grateful.  Snape was silent his body tense with anger.

"I'm no more happy about this then you are." She said quietly.

"No doubt," he growled back.

"I didn't ask for this assignment, although I understand why Albus has ask me." She added.

They walked in silence for a while.

"I must admit, you did have a knack these things.  But as good as you were with Runes, you were always better with potions."  She hoped the complement might cool him down some.

Snape didn't respond.

"I suppose he feels it would go faster with two of us trying." She finally concluded.

"That, or he expects that you will disappear before the job is complete." He shot back venomously.

"I didn't disappear." She corrected him calmly.

"No?" Snape turned his head to regard her.  "You weren't here when term resumed after the Christmas holiday."  There was desperate anger in his tone. "You had left while everyone else was gone."

"Is that what you believe?" she said stopping in her tracks.  

Snape turned to face her.

"That things got a little out of hand and I just ran away?"

Student's voices came from an intersecting hallway, and before he could answer, Avonell grabbed Snape by the arm and pulled him into an empty classroom, closing the door behind them.

"You believe that I left by my own choice?"  There was anger in her tone now.

"Yes." He hissed.

"I was exiled." She said through clinched teeth  "The train was hardly out of Hogsmeade station when the Ministry of Magic was at my door demanding that I leave."

"That's not what they told the students when we returned." He snarled, moving away from her toward the front of the room.

"They threatened me, they threatened the people I cared about.  What choice did I have?" she continued.  "The Ministry was against my appointment here, they were against anything I did."

"You could have told me, you could have left me a message!" he bellowed, his fists clinched in rage, "I trusted you, I confided in you."

"I never betrayed that confidence.  Anything they knew was purely conjecture on their part.  Unless, of course, you confirmed their suspicions." She accused, following after him.  "Damn it Severus, they wouldn't even let me say good bye to my own child!"

Snape rounded on her, his eyes cold dark pools of anger, his face contoured with rage.

"James said that I was the reason you left!" He glared at her, "He never missed an opportunity to remind me of that!"

"And you believe him? As much as that boy taunted you, you believed him?"

"I tried to find you.  I sent owls, and they all returned with my letters undelivered!" His rage was near the point of exploding.

"I WENT HOME!" She bellowed back at him.  Then paused a moment.  When she spoke again her voice was soft, fatigue tingeing the edges.

"I went home, Severus.  Back to the only place I could possibly call home at that time.  There is no owl that can make that journey."

"Home?" his tone still dripping with anger.

"Yes." She said meekly.  "Severus, my husband was barely cold in his grave when Dumbledore brought me to Hogwarts, I was estranged from my son.  The only three people willing to give me the benefit of the doubt where you, Albus and Minerva, and none of you were in a position to stop the Ministry."

"You left me with nothing!" Snape growled.

"I tried.  I left the dragon and ruby ring.  I lied, I told them you have given me the ring as a Christmas present, and that under the circumstances, I felt it should be returned to you.  It's not my fault they never gave it to you.  They didn't give to Dumbledore until this past summer."

Snape's mind went back to the memory of that ring.   Of the blood red ruby, held between two silver dragons.  To the times he had held the ring, staring into it.  To the sound of Avonell's voice leading him down into it's fathomless depths, washing away his fears and insecurities.  He shook off the memory.

"I knew you'd be the one to know how to use that ring to reach me, to call me back. How was I to know they'd not give it to you?   I can't change the past." 

"NO!" he shouted, "Malana, I…"

"You what?" she cut him off, her anger returning.  "You were 16 years old!  By the grace of … what would you have had me to do?"

Snape didn't answer her; he just stood there, glowering at her.

"Look," she sighed, "I'm not asking you to forgive me.  Hell, I'm not even asking you to like me, just tolerate me.  Dumbledore's right, we are stuck with each other on this one.  For the sake and duration of this assignment, can't we just call a truce?"

He turned away from her.  She watched as he stood there, still rigid with rage.  Slowly, very slowly, he relaxed.

"All right," he said without turning back. "A truce, but that's all."

"It's all I ask." She replied in barely more then a whisper.

"We start tonight?" he asked still keeping his back to her.

"No," she said slowly, "I have a student coming by my office after dinner.  It would be better if we begin tomorrow.  My classroom?  We'll need a blackboard."

"Agreed." He answered sharply.  With that Snape strode from the room leaving Avonell alone.

"Meow" came Schön's plaintive cry, form the floor near her feet.

"Angry is putting it mildly." She answered absently, "And just what are you doing out?"

Schön jumped onto a nearby desk, turned a tight circle, sat down, and squeezed his eyes.  A second cat appeared.  This one was a silver tabby.

"I should have known you'd have an accomplice." Avonell chuckled.  "How much did you hear?"

The Tabby transformed back into Professor McGonagall,  "Nearly all of it." She confessed.

"Well, at least I know were the resentment comes from." Avonell sighed, stroking Schön's velvet fur. 

"He was devastated when you left."  McGonagall added quietly.

"What did they tell the students?"  Avonell wanted to know.

"Only that you had been called away, and would not be returning."  The older woman answered.

"Did you know the truth?"

McGonagall shook her head,  "Not at first.  Dumbledore finally explained it to me, after the term had ended."

Avonell shook her head.  "To quote Sir Walter Scott: 'Oh what a tangled web we weave,\When first we practice to deceive'." She sounded very tired 

"Severus was seen leaving your office by a fellow student, that last night.  No one really knows what happened, he has never said.  So you can imagine the rumors ran from the ridicules to the scandalous."  McGonagall explained,  "There was even one rumor that had you murdered." 

Avonell shook her head again.  "I had no idea."

"He loved you, you know." McGonagall continued in a soft voice after several moments.

"Oh Minerva, he was 16 years old.  What does a 16-year-old know of love?"

"He's not 16 any more."

Avonell drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"So everyone keeps reminding me."  She sighed.  "Wait a minute, you're not suggesting that he still thinks he's in love with me?"

"I don't know," it was McGonagall's turn to shake her head, "he's spent a lot of years hating you."

"So I've noticed."

"What did happen that night?"

"Nothing that needed to keep a secret." Avonell began.  "But it is a difficult story and I'm tired and hungry, and I still have a student coming to my office this evening."  She looked up at her old friend.  "I promise, I'll tell you tomorrow."

McGonagall nodded understandingly.

***

The Great Hall was crowded with students.  Harry, Hermione and Ron sat together at the Gryffindor table, slightly apart from the rest of the House students.

"So," Harry asked around a mouth full of chicken, "How was Professor Avonell's class?"

Hermione scowled at him for a moment.

"She has a sense of humor at least." She told him. "And she seems to know a lot about ancient writings."

"I would hope so." Ron chimed in.  

At that moment, Professors Avonell and McGonagall entered through the main doors and walked toward the staff table.

"That's the second time I've seen her without witch's robes." Ron observed.

"What?" Hermione said turning to watch the pair walking between the house tables.

"She doesn't ware robes like the other teachers."  Ron explained.

"Maybe they don't in America."  Harry suggested. Still watching their progress.

"She did magic three times in class, without the use of a wand."  Hermione said turning back to the table.

"Whoa," Ron breathed, "she must be pretty powerful not to need a wand."

"It was all simple stuff," Hermione shrugged.  "Any witch or wizard can do simple things without a wand."

"We can't."  Ron corrected her.

"Ok, any adult witch or wizard."  She noticed that Harry was not paying attention; he was staring at the staff table.  The two women had seated themselves and were talking casually.

"Harry," Hermione said sharply. "You're staring."

"I'm sorry." He answered automatically before turning back to his friends "what were you saying?"

"Professor Avonell doesn't use a wand." Ron filled him in.

"We've seen Dumbledore do that." Harry reminded them turning back to watch the staff table.

Avonell laughed at something Professor Vector had said to her and Harry smiled.

"He's got it bad." Ron whispered across the table to Hermione.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I'm meeting with Professor Avonell after dinner." She said as a matter of fact.

Harry snapped his attention back to them.

"You are?" he asked.

"What, did you act up in class or something?" Ron teased.

"No," Hermione said indignantly, "I asked her a question and she told me to come by her office after dinner and she'd answer it."  Hermione's brow furrowed.  "Funny, I know she told be to come to her office, but I don't remember her actually saying it."

Ron's eyes widened.  "Maybe you shouldn't go." He said.

Hermione gave him a contemptuous look.

"Ron and I could go with you." Harry added hopefully.

"I don't think so."  Hermione replied authoritatively. 

"You're out of luck, Harry." Ron whispered.

***

Avonell glanced at the mantel clock over the fireplace and frowned.

"I'll give her five minutes more, then I'm calling it a day." She told Schön.

The cat looked up from the seat of a chair by the fire and purred.  Avonell returned her attention to the notebook computer and resumed her typing.

A minute latter there was a tentative knock on the office door.

"Come," Avonell said gently, closing the computer.  

The door opened and Hermione Granger stepped inside.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said closing the door behind her, "but Harry and Ron gave me a problem."

Avonell folded her hand on top of the computer and regarded the teen.

"What kind of problem?"  She questioned.

"They wanted to come with me."  Hermione explained walking over to the desk.

"You didn't want them to come with you?" Avonell said rising from her chair behind the desk.

"I just thought, well you weren't expecting them." The teen answered.

"Why don't we sit by the fire." The Runes Professor suggested.

Hermione took the chair not occupied by Schön.  Avonell scooped up the cat and set him in her lap.

"Would it have been alright? The girl asked.

"Anyone is welcome to come to my office," Avonell began in a soothing tone, "whether you bring company is up to you."

Hermione thought about this for a moment.

"There is one thing I'd like you to understand, anything said in this office does not go beyond these walls.  And that goes as much for me and for you." Avonell added.  "So please feel that you can be open with me."

"I'm not sure I understand." Hermione replied softly.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"  Avonell said, putting Schön on the floor.

The teen nodded.  Avonell rose from her chair and retrieved a teapot from next to the fire.  She produced two china teacups and poured, handing one of the cups to Hermione.

"There's sugar and milk on the table." She indicated the small round side table next to Hermione's chair.  "Is it ok if I call you Hermione?" 

The teen nodded.

"Hermione, do you know what a psychiatrist is?"  The professor asked, her voice gentle and relaxed.

"That's a doctor who treats mental disorders." The girl responded.

"Well, that's part of it.  In the Mundane world, I earn my living as a Psychiatrist."  Avonell explained as she seated herself again.  "And yes, I do treat people with emotional and mental disorders, but mostly I just help people get through difficulties, like a death of a loved one, or dealing with a bad situation.  That sort of thing."

"Is that why you are here, at Hogwarts I mean?"

"No.  That's my profession in the Mundane, or Muggle world.  In the Magical world I'm an expert in ancient languages.  That's why Professor Dumbledore asked me to come back."  Avonell lifted her teacup to her lips and blew on the surface of the liquid before taking a sip.

"Now, that answers your question." Avonell continued.  "Would you answer one for me?"

Hermione took a sip of her tea.  "Sure."

"What's life like for you at Hogwarts?"  The Professor gave the teen a smile.  "It's been a long time since I was here and I'm sure things have changed."

Hermione smile broadly.

For the next couple of hours, they talk about Hogwarts, what had happened, about the return of the Dark Lord, and the adventure she, Ron and Harry had had. 

It wasn't until the mantel clock struck 10:00 that Avonell broke the conversation.

"My goodness," she exclaimed softly.  "I'd better let you get back to Gryffindor tower."

Hermione hesitated.  "I'm going to get in trouble." 

"No you won't," Avonell said getting up and moving to the desk.  She removed a sheet of parchment from the top drawer and picked up a quill, "I'll just write you a note, and if you are stopped, it should keep you out of detention."

She handed the note to Hermione, who was eyeing the notebook computer.

"That's doesn't work, does it?" she asked.

"Yes, it does." The Professor replied opening the computer and swinging it around for Hermione to see its screen.

"But technology doesn't work at Hogwarts, there's too much magic."  She blurted out.

"This isn't an ordinary piece of technology." Avonell explained.  "It has no trouble with magic."

Hermione looked up at the older woman. "But I've never…."

"Never seen a Witch or Wizard use technology?  Well, I think they're missing out.  Muggles have been most inventive, and I don't understand why the Magical community isn't taking advantage of it." She paused, "And that, Hermione makes me an unpopular woman to most of the Magical community."

Hermione smiled.  "Good night Professor." She said and left.

Avonell withdrew another sheet from the desk and wrote a second note.

"Schön," she called as she folded the note, "would you take this to Minerva for me?  I've got a quick errand to run."

Schön jumped on to the desk and accepted the note.  As he bounded toward the office door, it opened only enough to allow him to slip out, then closed again.

***

The first glow of the rising sun was defused by heavy mist.  Professor Avonell stood by a window in her living quarters watching the morning dawn. 

"Does Professor Avonell need anything more?"  The young house elf asked from doorway.

"No, Izzy that will be all for now, thank you."  Avonell said gently, giving the house elf a genuine smile.  "You've done a fine job."

Izzy smiled in return.  She was small, even for a house elf, and had darker sink then most.  Her bat like ears, brushed the floor as she bowed, and her overly large amber eyes glowed with the complement.

"If Professor Avonell needs anything else, she will call Izzy?" the elf asked twisting the terrycloth towel she wore toga style.

"Of course.  You honor me with you service." Avonell said turning to face the elf and bowing slightly.

Izzy giggled, covering her face in embarrassment.  "You is too kind." She squeaked, and before the Professor could say more, she was gone.

"It's a shame that giving them proper cloths makes them so miserable." She said turning to the bed, where Schön sat.

The cat squeezed his eyes and meowed silently.

Avonell turned back to the window.  She hadn't slept well that night, and they day promised to be a long one.  She was beginning to regret having invited Minerva to join her for breakfast in her office.  She sighed.

The mantel clock in the office chimed 7:00 followed by a knock at the office door.

"One time as ever."  Avonell mused. 

She and Schön moved into the office.

"Come," she called as she closed the bookcase.

Minerva opened the door and entered.  "Good morning." She greeted her hostess.

"Please, sit down."  Avonell told her as she moved to the chairs by the fireplace. "I hope you like bagels and cream cheese.  There from my favorite Deli in Manhattan."

McGonagall smiled expectantly.  Avonell knew how much the other woman enjoyed this New York specialty; it had been she who had introduced the Transfiguration teacher to them years before.

"How did you get them?"  Minerva asked taking a seat.

"I have my ways."  Avonell said loftily, giving her guest a quick wink.

The two women laughed lightly.

"I see you met with Ms. Granger last night."  Minerva stated casually.

"Yes."  Avonell said pouring tea.  "She an inquisitive girl."

"And very bright.  I expect her to be named Head Girl next year."  McGonagall added with a hit of pride in her voice.

"I don't doubt it."  Avonell said sitting back in her chair.  "Although from what she tells me, she and the boys have been a bit of a handful."

McGonagall nodded.

"They have been through a lot." She sighed.

"That's part of why I'm here, Minerva.  Albus has asked that I counsel that trio.  I believe I've gained Hermione's trust.  But I haven't been able to speak with Ron or Harry yet."

McGonagall took a sip of her tea, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

"Now you were going to tell me…" she began.

"About what happened the night before my departure." Avonell completed her thought.  "You know that I was counseling Severus."  McGonagall nodded.  "What you may not have known was that I had begun to teach him some of the Sevlorian techniques."

Minerva's eyes widened.  "No, I had no idea."

Avonell nodded and set her teacup down.

"He has an enormous amount of potential.  I wouldn't be surprised if Professor Severus Snape was a male lineage descendent of Oquaar Rokux.  But be-that-as-it-may, I realized too late that he had misunderstood my intentions."  Avonell began.  

McGonagall picked up a half of a bagel and began slathering on the cream cheese.

"Well, the night before the Christmas break… my son announced that he wasn't staying at Hogwarts for the holiday, he was going home with his best friend.  What ensued was a pretty wicked argument.  Ending with his declaration that as far as he was concerned, I was no longer his mother."

McGonagall gave her a sympathetic look.

"After he had left, I lost it.  Everything seemed to be crashing down around me.  The death of my husband, the demands the Ministry of Magic had placed on me, and my son's final words to me were just more then I could handle.  I knelt down in the middle of the office and wept… Um that might be putting it a bit mildly, I was nearly hysterical." 

Avonell paused for a long moment.

"I had been completely oblivious to the fact that someone else had entered the office.  I just remember that someone had put their arms around me and started whispering to me."

"What did he say?" McGonagall urged her on.

Avonell shrugged, "Things like 'everything's going to be all right,' and 'you're better of without him.'  I vaguely remember being told 'I won't let anyone hurt you again.'  

"The thing was that I was so wrapped up in my own misery; I didn't pay any attention to who it was." She paused again, biting her lower lip slightly.  "When I had finally cried myself out, I realized it was Severus holding me."

"What did you do?"  Her old friend asked.

"What could I do?  I thanked him for his kindness, made some excuse about needing to be somewhere else and sent him back to his dorm.  I stupidly figured I could explain it all away after he returned from the holidays.  But…I…never got that chance."  She leaned her head back and covered her face with her hands.  "God I acted so unprofessional. I was such a fool.  It never occurred to me that…" She berated herself.

McGonagall sat forward and put a hand on Avonell's arm.

"Malana, you were under a great deal of stress." She soothed.  "You had no way of knowing what the Ministry was about to do."

Avonell lowered her hands and smiled sadly.


	4. Intruder at Hogwarts

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

Author's Note:  My many thanks to my Beta Reader – Doctor K. 

----------------------

Professor Malana Avonell dismissed her last Rune class of the day, a collection of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third years.  As the last of the 13-year-olds drifted from the room, she slumped into her desk chair and stared up at the blackboard.  Schön jumped silently onto the desk and nuzzled her hand.  She responded by stroking him and scratching behind his ears.  The cat purred contentedly, leaning heavily into the scratching.

After several minutes, she rose, went to the board picked up the eraser and began removing the last lesson from its surface.  She stopped after only two swipes.

"Oh bother," she sighed, and traced a simple pattern in the air.  At once the blackboard was cleared and washed.

"You were always one for the easy way out," snarled a voice from the classroom.

"I thought we had agreed on a truce," she answered curtly, turning toward the speaker.

Snape raise one eyebrow and regarded her coldly.  

Avonell swept from the head of the classroom muttering, "And I suppose you've never done the same?" as she passed him.  Two steps beyond that she stopped and turned back.  "No, wait.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said that.  I agreed to a truce and I'm going to honor that agreement," she turned.

"Is that to imply that I won't?" he shot back.

"No, Severus, it's a statement of my intent.  That's all," she told him wearily.  "The scroll is in my office.  I'll be right back."

She returned a few moments latter, unrolling the scroll as she joined Snape.

"Ok, the character set… umm… symbols, are High Sevlorian, but not the usage," she told him as she spread the parchment on the desk.  They weighted the corners down to keep it from rolling up again.

"I think, what we may have here is a cipher or encryption of some sort," she continued.

"Then you should be able to translate it without my help," Snape said silkily moving closer to get a better look at the scroll.

"Not necessarily," she replied evenly.  "Severus, Dumbledore has explained your … ah … involvement with Voldemort," she started slowly, turning to face him.  "I'm not accusing you of anything, in fact you have my deepest respect; the life of a double agent is rather precarious, if not out right dangerous.  But I need to know.  Do you have any prior knowledge of this?" she indicated the scroll.

"No," he answered maintaining her eye contact, "I'm not part of the inner circle."

She nodded and turned back to the desk.

"Ok," she continued, "I suspect that the underlying language is English.  However, as there are only 26 letters in the English alphabet and 52 characters, or letters, in High Sevlorian, all of which are represented in the writing, we may have a problem."

Snape remained silent.  Avonell moved to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

"Now, if the key is stable, it's merely a matter of determining which of the Symbols correspond to which letter," she went on, "But if the key rotates or shifts, we're in for a long haul."

"So," Snape glared at her, "Where do you suggest we begin?"

Avonell sighed lightly.

"Well, the most common letter in the English language is e.  So we need to query the document and determine which character is the most frequently occurring," she had to stand on tiptoes to reach the top of the black board. "I'll set up a cursor for the result set…" She dropped back onto her heals and lowered her arm.

"Man, I've got to get out more often," she whined, shaking her head.

From behind her Snape chuckled softly with amusement.  The tension broken, the two settled down to work.

Several hours latter, Avonell tossed the stub of chalk back into the tray of the blackboard.  Sighing deeply, she rubbed the back of her neck, trying to relive the sourness that had developed.

"This isn't getting anywhere," she groaned.

Strong hands settled onto her shoulders.  She had to fight the instinct to go on the defensive.  Snape dug his thumbs into the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders. She moaned softly as the tension began to melt away under his massaging. 

The classroom door creaked open causing Snape to stop what he was doing and move away from her.

Dumbledore poked his head in.

"When I asked the two of you to translate the scroll, I didn't mean to the exclusion of all else," he said in a parental tone.

Avonell cocked her head inquisitively.  

The Headmaster pushed the door open and stepped inside, followed by Izzy, who was carrying a tray with two tankards and an assortment of sandwiches.

"We missed dinner," Avonell said meekly.

"Yes you did," Dumbledore replied walking to the front of the room, followed by the house elf.

Izzy set the tray on the desk, as Snape re-rolled the scroll.

"Any luck?" the Headmaster asked seating himself.

"Not really," Avonell told him.  She picked up a tankard of pumpkin juice and took a long pull of the cool liquid.

"Well, it is your first attempt," Dumbledore said looking at the blackboard.

As the Professors ate, they explained their progress.

"I believe you've done enough for tonight," Dumbledore said a last.  "This can wait until tomorrow."  He rose from his chair. 

Izzy retrieved the tray and started from the classroom.

"Get some rest, both of you," Dumbledore told them before leaving the classroom.

Professor Avonell picked up the scroll.

"Until tomorrow then," she sighed,  "Good night Professor."

***

Saturday mornings were meant for sleeping in as far as Avonell was concerned, but apparently not this morning.

"Yeow," Schön howled very near her ear.

"Go away," she groaned, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table.  "It's only 7 o'clock."

"Yeow-wow," he persisted, jumping onto her chest.

"See if Izzy will feed you.  I want to sleep."

Then she heard what had upset the cat, a pounding on her office door.  Groggily she threw the bed sheets off of her, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up.

Shacking off the last vestiges of sleep, she reached for her terry bathrobe.

"God, it can't be Severus, not this early, please," she sighed.  She shuffled out into the office.  "CIM, who is it?" she asked no one.

The computer on the desk winked to life.

"Professor Dumbledore," the female voice of the computer answered.

Avonell drew a deep breath, tightened the belt of her robe and opened the door.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so early," Dumbledore said gently.  She stood aside and allowed him to enter.  "But I have some rather bad news."

Avonell yawned, "Couldn't it have waited?"  She closed the door. 

The Headmaster walked to the fire side.

"No, I'm sorry, it wouldn't" 

She joined him and faced the old wizard.  His expression was grave.

"Has someone died?" she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head.

"The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, will be in my office at nine.  You are required to be there as well," he told her.

She sank into the chair.  "It was just a matter of time Albus," she replied softly.  "You couldn't keep my presence here a secret for ever."

"No," he said heavily, "But I had hoped it would take longer for the Ministry to hear the news."

"Well, I guess I have no choice then to meet with him," she sat forward.  "What is this Cornelius Fudge like?  Is he likely to hold me to the same restrictions?"

"Most likely," Dumbledore stated sadly.

"Hmm," she glanced at her desk.  "Well at least it's your office and not mine," she rose.  "I'll be there by 8:50."

As promised, Professor Avonell arrived at the Headmaster's office promptly at 8:50, but she was surprised to find that Dumbledore was not alone.  A middle-aged wizard in pinstriped robes sat in a high-backed winged chair before the Headmaster's desk.

"Ah, Professor Avonell," Dumbledore addressed her, standing up as she crossed his office.  "May I present the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."

Fudge also rose, extending his hand and smiling in a friendly manor.

"So nice to see you again Professor," he said.

Avonell shook hands with the Minister then took a seat in the second chair.

"So sorry to be calling on you on your day off," Fudge started, fidgeting with the lime green bowler hat in his lap.  "But we didn't want to wait, you see."

"That's quite understandable," Avonell replied, fighting the urge to be surly with the Minister.

"You understand that we have to take these precautions?"  Fudge continued.  "Not that we don't trust you."

Avonell smiled maliciously.  "If you trusted me, then why did you find it necessary to see me?"

Fudge's face flushed.

"Now Professor," Dumbledore interjected.  "I'm sure the Minister meant no offence."

"No," Fudge jumped in, "but we must be careful in these troubled times.  It's just that we wanted to make sure that you remembered the vow you made to the Ministry."

Avonell nodded, "I do.  No wand, no broom, no robes and no refereeing to my self as a Witch.  I remember quite well."

"I'm sure you see why we must insist that you honor that vow, even now," Fudge continued.

Avonell raised an eyebrow, and looked the Minister straight in the eye.

"By restricting me, and you know that vow consisted of a great deal more then I just stated, you are severely limiting my usefulness here."

"But, as I remember, you refused to take the actions we requested of you the last time," Fudge's voice betrayed his annoyance.

Avonell sighed deeply.

"By an authority greater then yourself, Minister, I am bound protect, but only in so far as this:  I cannot do for you, what you are capable of doing for yourself," Avonell stated, never losing eye contact. 

"But He-who-must-not-be-name, has returned," Fudge said, "And we fear he is even stronger then before."

"There are still those among the Magical community who are capable of defeating Voldemort," she retorted.

Fudge flinched visibly at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

"One of whom is here at Hogwarts," Avonell continued.  "One who still knows nothing of who and what he is, I remind you."

"And you will not tell him," Fudge shot back in anger, "We have our reasons for not telling him."

"But you would have me train him, wouldn't you?" she accused, "You would keep the secrets, keep me bound by your fear, but still have me teach the student?  You forget, Minister, I am Sevlorian, full blooded Sevlorian, the last of a race even older then your own.  If it were not for the meddling of _Nah Cuo-rra Kiy it is doubtful you'd even be here!"_

"Professor!"  Dumbledore said in a voice much louder and harsher then was his normal want.

"The boy will know nothing of this!"  Fudge said getting to his feet.  

"How am I to teach him without his knowing?"  Avonell stood as well, facing the Minister head on.  "Do you really think he won't suspect?"

"Both of you sit down!" Dumbledore roared. The room fell into silence, and Professor Avonell and Fudge both sat.

"Now, I believe we can come to some understanding here," the Headmaster said sternly.

Avonell dropped her eyes, and stared at her hands.

"Minister," she said in a soft calm voice, "I do not agree with your position on this, but I will do what I can.  But it may become necessary to divulge information you would rather remain unknown."

"If there is no other way, but I would ask you to cooperate, I would not want to see you removed again," Dumbledore said gently.

Avonell nodded and looked back up at the Minister of Magic.

"You have my word, sir," she told him.

Fudge nodded.

"Then my business here is complete," he sighed.  "Professor, I would ask one favor, a personal favor."

"The Longbottoms?  Yes, Albus has already asked me.  I'm due to see them tomorrow," she answered his unasked request.  "I can give no guaranties until I've had a chance to evaluate their condition."

Fudge nodded. "Then I'll be getting back to the Ministry."

As the door closed behind the Minister, Avonell turned to Dumbledore.

"There are too many secrets, Albus, I'm not sure I can do what you ask of me and still keep all of your secrets," her was voice soft.

The Headmaster smiled at her.

"You will," he said, "I have faith in you."

***

The sun was warm on her face as Professor Avonell walked out into the castle's courtyard, the shadowy gray cat at her heels.  A number of students were taking advantage of the warm day as well.  Avonell found an empty stone bench and settled herself down.  Schön jumped up next to her and curled up.  She removed a stack of papers form the portfolio she carried and began correcting the student's homework.

"Meow," Schön mewed softly.

"I saw them," Avonell answered, "Across the yard."  She glanced up at Ron, Hermione and Harry sitting on the lawn at the far side of the courtyard.  "There will be time for that latter."

She returned her attention to the homework.  After several minutes she glanced up again.  The three had started slowly across the courtyard in her direction.

"Shouldn't we be working?" came the silky baritone voice from behind her. 

She looked up turning towards the voice, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

"It can wait until after lunch, Severus," she said, "I have class work to attend to first."

"Help, some one!"

The despite cry made everyone in the courtyard stop.  A slightly heavyset male student was racing across the lawn.

"There's… there's…" the boy tripped and sprawled face down onto the grass.

"Neville!" someone called.

"Longbottom," Snape hissed, "what has he done now?"

But Avonell was already on her feet and half way to the boy's side.  Ron, Hermione and Harry were the first to reach Neville.  The boy rolled over and sat up, his face pale, his breathing hard.

"There's… there's…" he stammered.

Avonell dropped to her knees,  "Take it easy," she soothed.

Longbottom opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out.

"Neville, what happened?" Harry asked.

The boy turned wide hysterical eyes to his friend. "I saw it," he breathed.

"Saw what, Mr. Longbottom, your shadow?"  Snape had joined them.  

Avonell glared at him for a brief moment then turned to the boy.

"Just relax, take a deep breath and tell me what you saw," she told Neville in a low gentle voice.

The four students looked up at Professor Snape and cringed.  In the moment when the other's attention was off of her, Avonell reached out and brushed Neville's disheveled hair from his face, making brief contact with his temple.  Neville relaxed visibly.

"I saw a man in black robes and a white mask," the boy said mechanically. "In the Castle."

"A Death Eater," Harry said hoarsely. 

"You must be mistaken," Snape began.

Avonell was on her feet again.

"No, he's not!" she snapped, seizing the Potions Master by the wrist.

Snape jerked out of Avonell's grip, not so much from the touch, but from the sudden pressure against his thoughts. He eyes blazed at her.

"Don't," he hissed dangerously.

"Tell the Headmaster there's a Death Eater in the Castle, then get the children to safety," she ordered.  Before anyone could react, she was off at a full run.

Snape too wasted no time in setting off, leaving the four students behind.

Harry scrambled to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Hermione called after him.

"To help Professor Avonell," he returned over his shoulder.

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. Then got to their feet and followed after him.

As Avonell reached the Entrance Hall, McGonagall's amplified voice echoed throughout the Castle

"All students report to the Great Hall.  All staff, report to the first floor staff room."

Avonell skidded to a stop, as the first of the students rushed into the Hall.  Prefects herded their house students toward the Great Hall and general pandemonium took hold. In the mists of the chaos, Avonell drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.  Centering her mind, she tried to sense the whereabouts of the intruder.  Someone ran into her, hard, nearly causing her to lose her balance and fall.

"Sorry Professor," drawled a familiar voice, followed by the snickering of two others.

Avonell turned to face her assailant, Draco Malfoy, and his cronies Grabbe and Goyle.

"Best be moving on, boys," she glared at them, knowing full well that Malfoy had run into her on purpose.

The three moved toward the Great Hall, Malfoy glancing over his shoulder and giving her a devilish grin.

"Yeow!"  

Avonell turned and followed Schön against the tide of Slytherin students, down the staircase leading to the dungeons.  In the sudden silence of the empty corridor, she stopped and listened, straining to hear even the softest of sounds.

A mild commotion from behind her made her jump.  Turning she found Harry, followed by the exasperated Ron and Hermione only a few feet behind her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.  "Go back upstairs."

"But I've dealt with Death Eaters before," Harry explained.  "I can help."

Avonell looked the boy up and down.

Well, she thought to her self, no time like the present.

"Alright," she said slowly, "There is power in numbers.  Stay alert; we don't know if this Death Eater is alone or not.  And keep and eye on the cat, his senses are far sharper then ours, he will warn of anything."  She moved off down the hallway, Schön in the lead.

Wands out and at the ready, the teens followed after the Professor, trying to be as alert as possible.  The dim hallways seemed to stretch on without end.  After several twists and turns, Schön slunk down into a stalking stance.  Avonell froze putting up a hand to indicate that the teens should do the same.  Schön crouched, ears erect, and whiskers swept forward, his tail lashing sharply from side to side.

"Kak-kak-kak," the sound the cat made was barely audible, as he inched himself forward, every muscle in his feline body tense, ready for the pounce.

They were approaching an intersection. Ron swallowed hard.  He was never comfortable with this sort of thing, and being friends with Harry usually landed him situations like this more often then he cared for.  

Avonell made a 'Down' motion as she crouched close to one wall.  Ron however was slow to follow her example.

"_Curcio!" The cry was harsh, echoing against the cold stone walls. Bright light filled the hallway, blinding them momentarily. _

Ron's cries were agonizing; hit full force by the spell, he lay on the ground writhing in intolerable pain.  Harry cringed, having experienced the power of the curse himself.

"_Ttaahru!" Avonell shouted, turning towards Ron._

A shimmering enveloped Ron, and he stopped screaming.  Wide-eyed and confused the youth sat up and stared down the hall past the Professor.  Harry and Hermione turned to look as well.  There, emerging into the light, a tall figure dressed in black robes, hood drawn up, advanced slowly.  A gloved hand brandished a dark wooden wand.  As the figure approached, a face came into view, the expressionless white mask, Harry had seen the Death Eaters wear.

"How fortunate," the Death Eater said in an oddly familiar voice, "Not only do I get to kill you, Professor, but Potter and his friends as well.  This is most rewarding."

Harry moved to stand beside the Professor, but she pushed him back against the wall.

"Stay put!" she ordered, not taking her eyes off the Death Eater.  

 "_Avada kedavra,_" bellowed the Death Eater.  Green light erupted from the end of his wand.

Harry watched in utter amazement as Avonell traced a circle in air before her, and the green light stopped only a foot in front of her and gathered itself into a swirling green orb.  The orb hung in mid air for a heart beat, and then popped harmlessly, like a child's soap bubble.

"That was a mistake," Avonell growled, Schön hissing and spitting at her feet.

She reached out her hand as if to seize the Death Eater, even though he was at lest 10 feet from her.  Then she closed her fist, rotating it palm up.  At the other end of the hall the black robed figure cried out in pain and clutched his chest, his wand clattering to the floor.  Schön leapt forward, snatching up the wand and disappearing into the shadows.

The man sank to his knees, gasping for breath.  Avonell advanced on him slowly, drawing her fist toward her own chest as she closed the distance between them.

"Fear, Death Eater, fear for your life," she whispered in a low, harsh voice.

Harry scrambled after her, but kept his distance, fearing that to interfere with her would be disastrous. He was only vaguely aware of the arrival of others in the hallway.

Avonell reached the cowering figure and leaned mulishly over him, her face only inches from the anonymous mask.

"Please," he pleaded between gasps, "Don't kill me."

"Don't kill you, why should I spare you?  But then…" she hissed through clenched teeth "No, I will not kill you, this time.  No, this time you will return to your precious Master and tell him _Naah Ttaah-gruw-aah has returned.  He will soon pay dearly for his atrocities against my progeny."  Her voice was so venomous that the Death Eater cowered still further, whimpering in spite of himself. She straightened up once again, her glare fixed on the cowering figure. _

There was a flash of white light and the Death Eater was gone.

Ron turned to Hermione who was kneeling beside him.

"Bloody Hell," he whispered to her, "Remind me to never get her mad with me."

"Malana," it was Dumbledore who spoke.  He, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Madam Pomfrey and Snape, stood in the hallway, only a short distance beyond where Ron and Hermione were.  "What happened?"

Avonell turned to face the Headmaster.

"The danger is over," she said calmly, "The intruder is gone, still alive, although he may regret that shortly."

Harry turned also.  Snape was standing at the back of the group, and Harry blinked.  For one very brief moment, he thought he had seen an expression of respect, maybe even adoration cross the gaunt features of the Potions Master face. 

Avonell place a hand on Harry's shoulder and urged him forward.  Madam Pomfrey stooped to help Ron of the floor.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine," he answered her sounding somewhat surprised. "Really, I'm fine."

***

Professor Avonell slumped into her desk chair.  Removing a sheet of parchment from the drawer and retrieving the quill from its holder, she wrote a single line: Come to my office, alone.  Avonell.

"Schön, take this to the boy," she said wearily. 

The cat jumped to the desk and carefully laid the Death Eater's wand before her.  He accepted the folded note and scampered from the office.

"Was that wise?"  the computer asked, "Letting the intruder go like that?"

"Probably not.  But CIM, I could hardly kill him, his son is a student here," she answered.

"Still, he'll go to Voldemort surely."

"Undoubtedly.  I only hope it won't cause too much trouble for Severus," Avonell sighed.  "Voldemort would have found out eventually."

She leaned her head back against the high back of the chair and closed her eyes.  The expenditure of magic had drained her.  She needed to rest.

Several minutes latter the door to her office swung open and Schön trotted inside.

Avonell closed the computer and slid it and the wand into the top drawer of the desk, an instant before Draco Malfoy swaggered into the room.

"When my father hears that you …" he started arrogantly.

"Your father does not frighten me," she snarled in a manor reminiscent of the Head of his own house.

Malfoy stopped in front of her desk.  "Then why did you call me here?" he drawled.

"Because I must ask you to see that this is returned to you father,"  She retorted sliding the drawer open and retrieving the wand.

She placed it on the desk before Draco, who went very pale.

"What makes you think this is his wand?" the teen snapped.

"Oh, by the grace… I recognize it, Malfoy.  Your father used it when he was in school.  I have only to touch it to know who its owner is," she told him.  "And tell him, that provided he does nothing else foolhardy, he'll have nothing to fear from me."

Draco stared at her for a moment longer, then snatched the wand from the desk and started out of the room.

"And Mr. Malfoy," she stopped him as he reached for the doorknob.  "I would offer you the same advice."

Draco glared at her, and then left, slamming the door closed behind him.

---------------------------

Author's Notes: Having trouble pronouncing some of the words?  Well here's a brief guide them.

1.   CIM is pronounced as if it were spelt Kim. (yes the computer can talk)

2.   _Naah – the aah is the sound the doctor asks you to make when examining your throat.  3.   __Cuo (koo)  __rra (an r rolled with the tounge) __Kiy (Ki)_

4.   _Tt is clicked with the tongue.  If you have ever watched Alien Nation this is the same click or 'tock' used in the Tanctonese language. (Don't feel bad, even I have trouble with this one)_

5.   _gruw is an r rolled in the throat._

Ozma:  Thanks for your continuing reviews.  They mean a lot to me!  Is Schön (pronounced Showen, and is a German name) more then a cat?  Well yes and no.  He is intelligent; in fact he's sentient, but he's still a cat at heart.  The relationship between Snape and Avonell is very complex, and has the potential of becoming even more so.  And I promise this will all play itself out as the story progresses.  Oh by the way, have your caught 'the move' yet?


	5. Mirror, Mirror

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

Harry, Ron and Hermione could hardly wait to get off by themselves and discuss what had just happened.  The Gryffindor common room was far too crowed, so the trio headed to the library.

"How did a Death Eater get into the school?"  Hermione asked as the found a secluded corner.

"I thought there were Wards on the school that would keep them out," Ron said shaking his head.  "Maybe we're not as safe as they want us to believe."

"I think," Harry, said in deep thought, "it may have been someone who would normally be allowed into Hogwarts."

"What do you mean?"  Hermione asked aghast.

"Well, if it were one of the staff members . . ."

"Snape was with the teachers," Ron pointed out.

"We're not even sure he is really with the Death Eaters," Hermione retorted.

Harry gave her one of his 'oh come off it' look.

"If not a teacher, then someone's parent, maybe," Harry added slowly.

"Malfoy?" both Ron and Hermione said in unison.

"Or Crabbe or Goyle," Harry continued. "We really don't know whose parents might be involved."

"And they were down in the dungeons," Ron offered.

"What I want to know," Harry said, "is how Professor Avonell was able to block the unforgivable curses.  Moody told us there was no way to counter them."

"All I know is one minute I was in so much pain that I was about to pass out, and the next, I was perfectly fine," Ron told his friends.

"And the way the _Avada Kedavra_ curse just . . . just popped," Harry replied.

"And no wand," Ron breathed, "she must be very powerful."

"What was it she said to that Death Eater," Hermione struggled to repeat the words she had heard.

"_Naah Ttaah-gruw-aah_," Harry repeated perfectly.

"But what does that mean?" Hermione scoffed.

"Protector, Guardian, Champion, something like that," Harry told her.

"How do you know?"

Harry shrugged.  "I just do.  It isn't the first language I didn't know I knew."

"What about the other word, the one she said to me?" Ron inquired.

Harry had to think for a long moment.  "Comfort – I think."

Hermione sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, I'm going to ask her," she said defiantly.

"Oh yeah, you're going to just walk up to her and ask . . ." Ron started.

"She told me, anyone can come to her office any time," Hermione cut him off.  "So I'll see her right after lunch."

"You're not going alone this time," Harry told her sternly

***

When Professor Avonell had not shown up at lunch, Hermione had wanted to call off the visit to the Rune teacher's office, but Harry had been insistent.  

"I still think we should wait," she said as they stood outside Avonell's office door.

"You said that anyone could come at any time," Harry returned hotly.

"Harry, maybe Hermione's right.  If she didn't come to the Great Hall for lunch, maybe she busy," Ron supported Hermione.

Harry raised his hand to knock, but Hermione grabbed by the wrist.

"She might not even be in there," she told him.

The door opened, making the three teens jump.  Professor Avonell stood in the doorway.

"I thought I heard voices," she smiled.  "What brings the three of you here?"

"We were . . ." Hermione began awkwardly. 

"We wanted to ask you a few questions," Harry overrode her.

Avonell nodded.  "I've been expecting this.  Please come in."

She stood aside and allowed the trio to enter.  Inside a small House Elf was clearing away an empty plate and water goblet from the desk.

"Izzy," Avonell addressed the elf.

The elf turned her large amber eyes on the Professor, "Izzy will see to it Professor Avonell," she answered.  "When should I tell him?"

"Say that I will send Schön when the time is right," the Professor answered.

The elf left the room without another word.

"I think we're going to need another chair," Avonell observed.  "Could one of you boys give me a hand?"

Harry stepped forward before Ron could react.  Following Avonell to the bookcase, he watched as she tipped one of the leather bound books forward.  Wide eyed, he took a step back as the bookcase went through its motions, to reveal a spacious room beyond.

"If you could get the chair by the fireplace, please," she told him.

Harry felt a little awkward entering the room.  This was obviously the room she lived in.  He glanced back over his shoulder, but the Professor was not in opening.  Retrieving the chair, he returned to the office.  Avonell had moved her desk chair over to the office fireplace.

"Just put it here," Avonell directed.

Harry did as he was told and then took his seat.

"Now," Avonell said settling into her chair.  "What did you want to ask me?"

All three started at once.  Avonell held up a hand and the trio fell into silence.

"Ron, why don't you start?" 

Ron swallowed.  "This morning," he began slowly, not really sure how to put his question.  "How were you able to stop the Cruciatus curse?"

"I didn't stop it," she answered in a matter of fact tone.  "I simply changed its nature"

There was a moment of silence.

"And the . . ." Harry started.

"The same thing."

"But Professor Moody told us there was no way to block the Unforgivable Curses," Hermione blurted out.

"And he was right," Avonell, said patiently.  "But then I didn't block them.  I changed them."

The teens exchanged confused glances.

"The trick is to change energy of the curse into something harmless, or in some cases to redirect the energy to somewhere else." Avonell explained in the same tone of voice she would have used in class.  "It's a very complex process and most Witches and Wizards never master it."

"But you did," Ron asked nervously.  

Avonell sat back and absently played with the necklace around her throat, a gold disk, with an embossed triangle within a circle. "Yes, I have."

"Can you teach us?"  Harry interjected hopefully.

"The question isn't weather I teach, but if you can learn," Avonell said slowly.

Again they exchanged confused glances.

"Ah, how to explain this," Avonell sighed, looking at each of the teens in turn.  "Not all people are born with the ability to . . . well, it's referred to as the Sevlorian Technique."

"Sevlorian?"  Hermione sat forward, and excited look blossoming across her face.  "Isn't that the origin of Magic?"

"Origin of Magic?" Ron said disbelievingly.

"Yes," Hermione dropped back into her know it all tone.  "There are some who believe that a group of people known as the Sevlorian, came to earth bringing the knowledge of magic, which they taught to others."

"Came to Earth?"  Ron was aghast.  "You mean from outer space?"

"Miss Granger, you've been reading some very obscure texts," the Professor tried to head off the ensuing argument.  "Besides, it's just a theory, it's never been proven."

"Professor, can you teach us this – technique?" Harry tried to draw the conversation back on to the track.

"I suppose I could try," she replied studying him.  "Just understand that not all people can do it, no matter how much they study.  It something you are born with, or without."

"Professor, how did the Death Eater get into the castle?"  Hermione changed the subject.

"I'm not sure they know yet," she said.  "But I doubt it will happen again."

"Could it be some one connected with Hogwarts?" the girl continued.

"How do you mean connected?  Do you suspect one of the staff or a student?"  The Professor sounded a bit surprised.

"We think Professor Snape may be a Death Eater," Ron offered.

"Hmm . . . not unless he's figured out how to be in two places at one time."

"Why does Vol . . . you-know-who, what you dead?" Harry asked.

"Because I'm a threat," Avonell pointed out.  "Which is why I assume he would like to see you dead as well, Harry."

"Then you're on Dumbledore's side?" Hermione piped up.

"I certainly wouldn't be here if I weren't," the Rune teacher laughed.

"Then Dumbledore brought you here to kill, you-know-who?" Ron was the next to speak.

"Kill?  No I won't kill Voldemort or anyone else for that matter.  Professor Dumbledore knows that." 

"You told the Death Eater to fear for his life,"  Harry pushed.

Avonell sighed, "only because I know what the Dark Lord is likely to do to him when he finds out he failed to dispose of any of us."

"What did you do to the Death Eater?"  Harry continued to question.

Avonell shook her head, "sorry, that one's off limits." 

"But . . ." Harry started.

"Look you three," she cut him off,  "you're getting in way over your heads here.  And I desperately need some rest."

Harry looked disgruntled.

"I'm sorry," Avonell sighed.  "But this morning took a lot out of me."

"We understand," Hermione said, giving the boys a stern look.

They stood and moved toward the door.

"When can I start training?"  Harry asked pausing at the door.

"Ah, let's say Wednesday evening?"  Avonell replied.  "After your last class.  Come to my classroom."

Harry nodded and left closing the door behind them.

Schön jumped into Avonell's lap and meowed questioningly.

"No, not now.  I was serious about needing to rest," she told the cat.  "Oh shoot, I forgot to have them put the chair back."

She sighed.

"It will have to wait until latter, I'm too tired to get up."

***

Avonell awoke with a start.  She sat up realizing that someone had brought the ottoman from her room, and put her feet up on it.  She had also been covered with a blanket.

"Did you have a good rest?"  To her relief it was Dumbledore who spoke.

She turned in the chair, to find the Headmaster standing behind her desk.

"Interesting, you call this – a computer?" he indicated the notebook computer on her desk.

"Yes," she answered, rubbing sleep from her eyes.  "I'm sorry I must have fallen asleep."

"Indeed you did, for three hours," the old Wizard chuckled.

"Oh gees, the scroll," she started to get up.

"I've already told Severus it can wait until after dinner," Dumbledore said waving her back into her seat.

He walked over and sat down in one of the other chairs.

"You've had a very busy day," he observed.

"Albus, you do know who the intruder was?" she asked ignoring his comment.

Dumbledore nodded sadly, "But without proof, there is little I can do.  Unless you have proof?"

"No," she sighed, "I sent the wand back."

Dumbledore raised and eyebrow.  "Did you?"

"By way of a warning, I want no further trouble," she explained.

"I don't believe we will have any trouble from Lucius, at least for a while.  But was it wise to take the children with you?"  Dumbledore posed.

Avonell shrugged, "what better way to let the boy know I had something to teach?"

"I see your point," the Headmaster nodded,  "and did you succeed?"  

"Oh most defiantly," Avonell gave him a wily smile.

Dumbledore returned the smile. "Do you think Harry can master the Technique?" 

"Albus," Avonell answered with mock indignation, "you forget, his is James Potter's son."

"Yes, but James did refuse to learn the Technique," Dumbledore reminded her.

"I don't believe we will have that problem with Harry.  He seems anxious to begin training," she informed him.

"Very good then," the Headmaster sighed with relief.  "And when will he start?"

"Wednesday, if he can wait that long."

"He's an impatient youth," Dumbledore cautioned her as he rose from his seat.  "And might I add that you should really ward your doors."

"There warded," she replied causally as she folded the blanket and placed it on the ottoman, "it just that you are on the authorized personnel list."  She stood.

"Good," Dumbledore replied turning back to her, "then I'll see you at dinner."

Avonell smiled and inclined her head slightly. 

***

The Great Hall was already crowed when Professor Avonell made her appearance, accompanied by Schön.  Pausing at the entrance, she quickly scanned the assembled students, locating Harry and his friends.  Giving then a quick wink, she turned towards the Staff table and proceeded along the Slytherin house table.  

Draco jumped out of his seat to bar her way.

"My father would like to thank you for returning his stolen wand," he drawled.  Then in a low voice he added, "He says that as far as your warning, well, you always were an arrogant bitch."

Avonell raise a finger only a fraction of an inch from the boy's noise.  Draco felt his body freeze, as her eyes bore into his.

"I will not be spoken to like that, young man!" she told him in a dangerously silken tone.  "I think, fifty points from Slytherin for your insolence.  Now sit down!"

It was only after she had broken eye contact, that Malfoy was able to move.  He turned after her with the intent of slinging another insult at her, but Professor Snape was on his feet, and he thought better of his actions, and sat.

Snape remained standing.  Harry watched as he and Avonell exchanged words, Snape glaring down his house table.

"Wonder what that was all about?" Ron whispered.

"Coming from Draco, do you really need to ask?" Hermione scolded.

"What ever he said, its made Snape mad," Harry observed.

"Probably lost house points," Ron guessed.

Harry jumped as something grabbed his arm.  Glancing down at the seat next to him he was met by the green eyes of Schön.  The cat had looped on paw around Harry's forearm and was trying to draw his hand down.

"Oh, hello Schön," he said softly.

"Meow?"  The cat replied.

"What's he doing here?" Ron questioned craning his neck to get a better look at the animal over the table.

"Begging for food," Hermione surmised peering around Harry. 

Harry tore a bit of chicken from the leg he was holding and extended to the cat.  Schön took the morsel daintily from the boy's fingers.

"You like that," Harry smiled, tearing off another tidbit.

"Harry, you shouldn't feed him like that," Hermione scolded.  "It's not a good idea to feed animals from the table."

"Oh go on Hermione, it won't hurt him," Harry complained, allowing Schön to take the second piece.

"If you get him started," came a soft voice from behind him, "he'll expect it every time."

Harry looked up into the face of Professor Avonell.

"Sorry Professor, but …"

"Schön," Avonell said sharply, cutting the boy's apology short, "if you continued to beg, you will not be allowed back into the Hall."

The cat slunk off the bench and disappeared under the table.

"I know he can be hard to resist Harry, but please don't feed him in the future," Avonell told him, putting a hand on the youth's shoulder.

"I won't," Harry promised.

Avonell smiled,  "Thank you."

"Professor?"  Hermione started, "what did Draco say to you?"

The Rune Teacher shook her head, "that, Ms. Granger, is between myself and Mr. Malfoy."  She patted Harry's shoulder, "enjoy your dinner," she turned back to the staff table, "Schön! Come!"

The cat followed his mistress glancing back only once.  Hermione assumed her 'I told you so' expression, and the teens finished their dinner in silence.

***

Avonell returned to her office retrieved the scroll from the desk drawer.

"Oh Schön," she sighed, "I wish I didn't have to work on this blasted thing tonight."

The cat leapt silently onto the desk, and rubbed the side of his face against her outstretched hand.

"I'm just not up to it tonight."

"Purr-ow."

"No, it's not just that," she paused stroking the cat's back, "I guess I'm just not comfortable working with Severus."

"Mow?" Schön chirped.

"I know that," she scooped the cat into her arms and cuddled him to her chest.  "It's just that with everything else Albus wants me to do, this scroll is getting in the way."

There was a soft knock on the door to the classroom.

"Well, best to get this over with," she told herself, setting Schön back on the desk.

She picked up the scroll and walked to the door.  Opening the door she found Professor Snape, as she had expected.

"Any thoughts?" she asked moving past him and proceeding to the front of the room.

"No," he answered flatly, following after her.

She tossed the scroll onto the table and pivoted the blackboard over to where they had been working the first time.

"Ok, let's take a new approach," she began picking up a piece of chalk.  Snape moved to stand beside her.  "See how some of these symbols are similar to each other," she indicated the left edge of the board, where she had drawn the set of Sevlorian characters.  "What if they didn't represent different letters, but were used to represent the same letter?"

Snape moved back to the table and spread the parchment open.  "That would narrow things down," he observed.

"If you'll notice, some of the characters are never written alone, but rather over another character," she pointed out.  Snape nodded. "In Sevlorian, they are somewhat like vowel in English."

"Then following the logic we were using before," Snape said returning to the board, "these marks," he took the chalk from her and drew a box around the four hash like marks, "would be e's."

 For over an hour, they worked, but got little further.

Avonell slumped into the chair and watched as Snape tried again at the blackboard.

"I thought we had decided those were a's," she moaned.

Snape stepped back and observed his work, "if they were o's then …"

"This is stupid," she cut him off.  He turned to face her.  "I give up," she intoned miserably. 

She got to her feet and started down between the rows of desks.

"Where are you going," Snape demanded.

"Severus, we're not getting anywhere with this tonight.  It can wait," Avonell said turning back to him.  "I'm tired, my eyes hurt, and I have a headache.  All I'm interested in right now, is a long hot bath and at least eight hours of sleep," she turned back towards the door. "I'll see you in the morning."

***

Avonell placed her towel, washcloth and a bar of bath soap at the edge of the bathtub.

"Why couldn't they have put bathtubs in the staff quarters?" she muttered to no one but the cat.

She selected the appropriate taps for a bubble bath and turned then wide open.  Turning to the mirror, she wound her hair into a tight bun at the crown of her head, and then studied her reflection.  She looked tired, older, and the veins on her forehead stood out slightly.

She turned back to the tub, it was full already, and turned off the taps.  Letting the terrycloth bathrobe slip from her shoulders, she stepped into the tub.  It was insanely big, more the size of a small swimming pool.

"You could fit a dozen people in this and still have room," she mused.

She eased herself into the hot water and found the bench.  Leaning back, the water covering her shoulders, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax.  At the far end of the tub, Schön began his own cleaning ritual.  

The water was the perfect temperature and the scent of the bubble bath helped to further ease her mind and body.  For several long delightful minutes she remained unmoving, allowing the warmth to envelope her.

Suddenly Schön stopped what he was doing and sat erect.

"Meo-o-o-w," he cried.

"What?"  Avonell said snapping out of her reverie, "Who?"

The knob on the bathroom door began to rotate.  Avonell snatch up the towel and plunged it into the water, wrapping it securely around herself flattened herself against the side of the tub, before the intruder could get the door completely opened.

"Don't you believe in knocking!" she snapped angrily.

It was Professor Snape who stood in the doorway, holding a gently steaming goblet.  He crossed the distance between the door and the tub, extending the goblet toward her.

"For your headache," he told her coldly, "you should drink it before it cools."

Reaching up, careful not to expose herself, she accepted the goblet.  She remembered the potion, entirely too well, it had been the only thing that had worked on her headaches when she had been at Hogwarts the first time.  It worked, but it tasted dreadful.

"Would it have hurt to knock before you barged in?" she growled.  She took a deep breath, held it, swallowed the potion in three gulps and shuttered. "But thank you," She handed him back the goblet.

Snape turned unceremoniously and started out of the bathroom.

"If you don't want to be disturbed," he snarled, "then I suggest you try warding the door."

Avonell grabbed the first solid object she could find, the soap, and flung it after him.  It hit the closed door with an unsatisfying thump.

Schön came out of a dark corner, hissing.

"Oh yeah, like you were a lot of help!" she said hotly. 

***

Sunday morning came entirely to quickly.  Professor Avonell finished the last of her breakfast and drained the teacup.  As if on queue, Izzy appeared in the doorway.

"Is Professor Avonell going to Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries?" she asked in her high pitched voice.

"Yes, I'll be gone all morning," Avonell answered, "And I do wish you'd not be so formal.  My name is Malana."

Izzy shook her head, "No, it's not right for a house elf to address a Witch with such informality, like and equal."

"Ok," Avonell said slowly, "then I'll split the difference with you.  Call me – Miss Malana."

The house elf gazed up at the Professor with wide eyes.

"It's an old Eastern Shore tradition.  It shows respect for an elder, but with the familiarity of someone you've grown close to."  She explained.

"Eastern Shore?" Izzy squeaked. 

"Ah, yes you wouldn't know about that," she replied thoughtfully, "It's American."

"Oh," the house elf breathed, retrieving the used dishes, "Izzy will try, ma'am."

Avonell laughed lightly.

 ***

When Professor Avonell had not shown for either breakfast or lunch, Harry had become worried.  But when he got a twinge in his scar, he knew something was wrong.  Managing to loose both Ron and Hermione, he made his way to Avonell's office.  He knocked, and receiving no answer, he tried the knob.  Locked, it figured.  He knocked again, harder this time.  Nothing.

He was about to leave when he heard a small click.  Turning back to the door, he found it had opened just enough to allow Schön to exit.  The cat shot past him and down the hallway.  He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Professor Avonell?"  He called, but got no answer.

The room was dark and silent.  Pulling out his wand, he muttered. "_Lumos." _

The light from the tip of his wand illuminated the deserted office.  Harry moved further inside, the door closing behind him with a soft bump.

"Professor Avonell," he called again.  He waited, but no answer was forthcoming.

With caution, he moved to the bookcase and began tipping books.  On the third one, the bookcase responded.  Harry stepped back.  The room beyond was lite by two large windows.

"_Nox_," he told his wand and the light went out.  Gingerly he stepped into the room.

"Professor Avonell, I really need to talk to you," he called out.

He looked around the room.  In the far corner stood a large ornate mirror.  But it was the size or even the carvings around its frame that caught his eyes, it was the gold chain dangling from the top center.  Pocketing his wand he approached the mirror.  There at the top of the mirror, nestled in the frame was the gold disk Professor Avonell usually wore around her neck.  Harry reached up to touch it, but jumped back as hum suddenly erupted from the thing.

As he watched, the surface of the mirror rippled and shimmered, like water disturbed by a breeze.  His reflection distorted and he backed away further.  Then to his utter amazement, Professor Avonell stepped out of the mirror.

------------------------------------------

**Author's Note**:  Sorry for the delay.  With demands at work, my Beta-Reader vacationing in Hawaii and System down time, I was late uploading.  Hope you enjoy and – Please let me know what you think so far –   


	6. Punishment

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

**Author's note**:  My many thanks to Ozma (if you haven't read her work, you're missing out!).  It is her personification of Argus Filch, which I have borrowed and used here. 

----------------------

"What are you doing here Harry?" Avonell asked tersely, giving a reproachful look.

"I … I needed to talk to you," he stammered, still stunned by what he had just seen.

"You shouldn't be in here," she continued, giving the chain a slight tug and dislodging the necklace.  The mirror returned to being just a mirror.

"What is that?" he asked starring past her.

"Nothing you need to be concerned with," she answered flatly

"Where were you?"

"I had business away from the school," her answer was curt.  "Now what is it you wanted?"

"My scar hurt," he replied dumbly.

"Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey," she was getting annoyed.

"No," he protested, following her into her office. "It usually means that You-know-who is near."

Avonell stopped and considered this, "then it might be better to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

"But . . ." her couldn't figure out how to continue.  She was right.  If Voldemort was near by, it made better sense to tell the Headmaster.

"How did you get in here?"  The Rune Teacher asked taking a seat behind her desk.

"The door opened when Schön came out," he told her truthfully.

"Hmm, I think I better have a talk with him," she muttered more to herself, then to Harry.

"I was worried," the teen continued, "you weren't at breakfast or lunch."

Avonell looked up at him with a serious expression on her face.

"Harry, where as I appreciate your concern, you needn't worry yourself about me," she said. "It would be a better use of your time to study."

"Speaking of studying," he grabbed hold of the opportunity.  "Can't I start before Wednesday?"

Avonell sighed.  She had walked into that one.

"Not really," she said, her voice sounding tired.  "I'm busy up until then.  In fact I have an appointment in a few minutes."

Harry nodded dejectedly.  "Ok," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry Harry," she replied, "but I do think you should speak to Professor Dumbledore, if you think Voldemort is involved."

Harry nodded again, only somewhat surprised that she had used the name.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Come," Avonell called.

Professor McGonagall opened the door and stepped in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize," she began hesitantly. 

"Mr. Potter was just leaving," Avonell said giving the youth an apologetic look. 

Harry left with out another word.  After he had gone and the door was closed, McGonagall turned back to Avonell.

"I thought perhaps Severus, was with you," she said.

"No," Avonell answered.

"He hasn't been seen today," McGonagall explained.

"Well, maybe he had a tryst," she suggested.

McGonagall looked a bit shocked at this.

"Well, it could happen," Avonell shrugged.  "Besides, I'm not Severus' keeper.  I've been at St. Mungo's all morning.  You did know I was going."

"How did it go?" McGonagall asked, genuine concern evident in her voice.

"It doesn't look good Minerva," Avonell said sadly.  "There's been so much damage, I just don't know how much I can help."

"But you will continue to work with the Longbottoms?"

Avonell nodded.  "I'll do what I can," she promised.

There was another knock at the door.

"That will be Neville," Avonell told the other woman.

"Will you tell him what you are doing?"

"No," Avonell said getting to her feet, "Dumbledore feels I shouldn't say anything unless I know for sure I can undo the damage.  And at this point, I just don't know."

She opened the door.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said to McGonagall.  She turned to the boy standing outside.

"You … you wanted to see m… me?" Neville stammered.

***

Avonell sat on the front steppes of the castle.  The night was warm and the sky clear.  As the lights from inside the castle faded the stars gleamed brightly.  This was one of her favorite things about Hogwarts.  Away from the light pollution of the large cities, the stars were brilliant, and even the misty cloud of the Milky Way was discernable. 

Schön crawled up into her lap and curled up, kneading against her thigh.

"Beautiful night," she sighed, gazing up at the sky.  Schön began to purr.

"I thought I'd find you out here," it was McGonagall.  She appeared at the foot of the steps.

"Good evening, Minerva," Avonell answered dreamily.

McGonagall climbed the steps and sat down next to her friend.

"Any sign of Severus?" Avonell asked.

McGonagall shook her head, "not yet, but he's been gone like this before, when He-who-must-not …" she trailed off.  "Aren't you worried?"

Avonell shrugged.  "Severus is capable of taking care of himself," she said.  "My only concern is that my presences here might foul up Dumbledore's little arrangement." 

"Then you don't approve?"  McGonagall asked in a soft voice.

"I don't approve or disapprove, Minerva.  But I've been a double agent myself, and it's a lot to ask of a person, to put their life at risk like this."

"He agreed to it, Malana.  He knew what he was getting himself into."

"It nearly got me killed on more then one occasion," Avonell continued.

McGonagall huffed unbelievingly.

Avonell laughed openly.  "I may be extremely long lived, Minerva, but I am quite capable of dying."

"Still," the other woman sighed, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"I have no doubt."

The two women sat in silence for several minutes watching the night sky.

"Do you miss being out there, among the stars?" McGonagall asked breaking the silence.

"I'm always among the stars," Avonell chuckled, "no matter where I go.  It's all a matter of perception.  But I will admit, I've missed being here, on earth within the magical community."

"Good," the Transfiguration teacher said matter-of-factly, "maybe you'll stay longer this time."

Avonell smiled.

"Well, I've got papers to correct," McGonagall told her as she stood.  "Don't stay out too late, tomorrow is a school day," she scolded as if speaking to a student.

"I won't Professor," Avonell answered with a laugh. "Good night Minerva."

"Good night," McGonagall disappeared through the front doors.

Avonell stroked the sleeping cat in her lap, and gazed up at the star filled sky.

After nearly a half an hour Avonell sighed. "I guess we should be going in."

"Mow?" Schön answered sleepily.

"Oh don't complain," she started, but something caught her eye, a dark figure staggering its way across the lawn towards the castle.

As she watched, the figure stumbled and fell onto all fours.  It tried to standup, but collapsed into a heap.

With sudden recognition, Avonell sprang to her feet, dumping Schön onto the steps.

"Yeow!" the cat protested.

"Severus?" Avonell breathed.  She hurried down the steps and across to where the figure laid, face down.  Dropping to her knees she reached out and tried to roll him over.

"No," Snape groaned.

"What happened?" she asked placing a hand on his back.

Snape cried out in pain.  Avonell snatched her hand back, his robes were wet, and in the moon light she saw that the palm of her had was covered in blood.

"My God, Severus," she breathed. "What happened to you?"

"The … Dark …" he gasped.

"We've got to get you inside," she told him, her concern plain in her voice. "Can you stand?"

"Think … so," he answered.  His breathing was labored and speech was difficult.

Helping as best she could, Snape rose painfully to his feet.  He leaned heavily on her and after only a few steps; he sank to his knees again. 

"_Norru_," she whispered and shimmering luminescent orb appeared in the palm of her hand.

Snape cringed at the light and turned his face away from her.  Avonell set the orb to hover a few feet away.  As gently as she could, she placed her hand under his chin and turned his face to her.  She gasped.  His lower lip had been split, his left eye as nearly swollen shut and badly bruised, and from the angle and swelling, his nose had been broken.

Snape closed his one good eye and turned away from her gaze; unable to face the pained expression she wore.

"Voldemort," he began softly, "Malana – he knows – you're here."

"Shhh," she soothed, "don't try to talk."  

She reached out to touch his forehead.

"No," he groaned miserably, pulling away from her touch, "no, I don't want you to see it."

"Severus," she whispered hoarsely withdrawing her hand, "I'm so sorry."

"Not … your … fault," he told her, turning back to face her.

"We've got to get you inside," she pleaded.

He nodded and struggled to his feet.  Supporting him with one hand under his elbow and the other around his upper arm, they moved slowly toward the front steps of the castle, the light orb moving ahead of them to light the way.  They had just reached the top step, when the front doors opened.  Argus Filch, the school's caretaker stood framed in the doorway.

"Great Merlin," he gasped,  "What happened to the Professor?"

"Argus, help me get Severus to the hospital wing," she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

"No," Snape begged, "not there."

Filch moved to his other side and taking him in a similar manor as Professor Avonell, they moved Snape inside.

"Ok then, if not the hospital, then my office," Avonell told him

"No," Snape started to protest.

"I'll give you the choice, Poppy or me, but you are going to get medical help," her voice was stern; she was not going to argue with him.

Snape didn't answer.  He was becoming harder to support, growing weaker with each step.  At the top of the stairs to the second floor, he slumped to the floor.

"Let him rest a moment," Avonell told Filch. "Then we'll take him to my office, it's closer."

Filch nodded, his face grave with concern for his friend.

"I know who did this Professor," he said looking up at the Rune Teacher, "the Death Eaters can be very cruel."

After several heat beats, Filch spoke again. "Can't you levitate him the rest of the way?"

Avonell shook her head sadly, "Can't, it would require a wand, and I'm not permitted."

A meow echoed a shot distance down the hallway.  Schön, accompanied by the sleek Mrs. Norris appeared out of the darkness.

"Come on sweetheart," Avonell not paying attention to her choice of words, as she and Filch hauled Snape back to his feet. "Its not much further."

Snape rallied some and the three of them made their way arduously, towards Avonell's office, preceded by the pair of cats, and the eerie light orb.

At last they arrived at Avonell's office.  The door swung open at their approach and as they moved inside, the fireplace springing to life.

"Sit him on the ottoman," Avonell instructed.

Carefully they maneuvered Snape to the ottoman before the fire and sat him down.  He swayed severely, but Avonell caught him and steadied the stricken Potions Master.

"_Noru showaah_," she whispered and the light orb divided itself into to three, moving to illuminate the room is soft but bright light.

"Argus," she said in a low strained tone, "Help Severus get his shirt off, I'll be back in a moment."

Filch watched as the Professor tripped the secret entrance in the bookcase and disappeared into the room beyond. Then turning to Snape he began removing the wizard's robes, jacket and shirt.

"She means well enough," Filch said, "but can she handle this?"

"She is … a Doctor, Argus," Snape answered in a weak whisper, "I trust her."

When Avonell entered the office again she was carrying tray, on which were three bottles, several rolls of gauze and a number of other first aid supplies.  Filch interposed himself between the two Professors, before she could see the damage that had been wrought on Snape.

"It's bad, Professor," he told her his voice shaking, "They've hurt him worse then I feared."

Avonell looked at Filch intently.  He was visibly shaking and his complexion had grown very pale.  She nodded to him, "I understand," she answered him in a soothing tone.

Filch stepped aside.  Avonell nearly dropped the tray as a wave of nausea swept over her.  Crisscrossing Snape's back were six deep gashes.  Flesh, muscle, and sinew had been slashed by something sharp.  In several places, the bone of ribs and spine lay exposed.

"By the grace of . . ." her words were barely audible. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to compose herself,  "How barbaric." 

Filch took the tray from her and carried it over to the small table beside Professor Snape.

"Argus, please, I'll need a basin of clean water.  Slightly warm preferably." Avonell's voice was weak and there was a slight tremor in it.

Filch nodded and hurried from the office.  Avonell watched him go, and then approached Snape.  She placed a gentle hand on one shoulder, but he winced at her touch.  Carefully she began inspecting his injuries.  His face and back were not the only areas tortured, his wrists where raw, obviously his hands had been bound, and a nasty burse on his chest bespoke of broken ribs.  She moved to stand in front of him.

"Severus, why?" she crocked.

"Punishment," he managed to answered not looking up at her, "because – I didn't tell him – you had returned."  

She squatted down and looked up into his battered face.

"But to do this to one of his own?" she reached up to brush the hair from his face.

Snape pulled away, nearly loosing his balance.  She steadied him again.

"I won't seek a rapport," she promised.

He nodded.  Gently she swept the hair from the left side of his face, and tucked behind his ear.  Snape winched in pain.  Avonell rose and move to look at a small wound just behind his left earlobe.

"Where do you want this?"  Filch had retuned with a large basin of water.

"On the floor, next to me," she answered absently.  "Argus, in the top right hand drawer of my desk is a pair of glasses.  Would you get them for me?"

Filch placed the basin next to the Professor, and then went to the desk.  He eyed the open computer with great suspicion, and retrieved the glasses from the drawer, staying as far away from this strange piece of technology as possible.

"What is it?" Filch asked, handing the glasses to Professor Avonell.

She put on the half glassed and waved one of the light orbs closer to illuminate the area in question.

"A small puncture wound." She stated curiously, "Severus, did Voldemort drug you?"

Snape didn't answer.

"This can't be," she murmured.  "It's just not possible!"

"What?" Filch asked moving closer for a better look.

"From the discoloration and condition of the flesh, it appears to be … _Kurr_, but…" she turned to face the Caretaker, "the plant it is distilled from hasn't existed for several hundred years," she paused.  "And it has never existed on Earth!"

Filched swallowed hard and backed away.  He had known of Avonell's origins, as far back as the first time she had come to Hogwarts.  But he was never comfortable when the subject was brought up.  She was Sevlorian, an ancient race of magically endowed, people from another planet.  There were those who believed that it was the Sevlorian race that had brought magic to Earth thousands of years ago.  He shook off his apprehension, he was more concerned now with the welfare of his friend, Severus Snape.

Avonell had turned back to Snape.  She pressed her fingertips into his carotid artery.

"Severus, listen to me," she started firmly, "you've lost a great deal of blood, and most likely have some internal injures as well.  Your heart rate has already become erratic.  I have to enter into a healing rapport . . ."

"No," he wailed.

"A healing rapport is different," she went on.  "There is no exchange of thought, no intrusion on the mind.  If I don't do this, you – will – die."

Snape shifted unsteadily and looked up into her face, the gravity of his situation was plainly evident in her eyes.

"Please Severus," Filch pleaded moving forward, "Let her do this."

Snape held her gaze for several moments, and then nodded weakly.  Avonell moved to stand behind him.

"Argus, I'll need you to stay here.  I mustn't be disturbed." She stated calmly.

"I understand Professor," he replied, feeling somewhat helpless.

Snape drew a ragged breath, closed his eyes, and waited.  Lightly she pressed the fingertips into his temples.  He exhaled slowly, as he felt her presence move toward him, around him, into him.  He was falling, slowly drifting downwards.  The pain was receding, ebbing away with each breath.  A feeling of such peace and serenity unlike anything he had ever known enfolded it self around him, his cares and worries melted like snow in the hot sun.  He was floating, as if supported by a warm breeze caressing his skin.  He was relaxed and at peace.

Filched sat in one of the chairs as Avonell touched Snape's temples.  He exhaled slowly, as she had moved her hands to his shoulders, easing him back to rest against her.  She supported his weight as his body went limp.  His breathing slowed, as did Avonell's.  The pain left Snape's face to be replaced with an expression of peace.  If he had not been able to hear his breathing, see his chest rise and fall with each breath, Filch would have sworn that Snape had died.  He was only vaguely aware of the clock chiming 11:00.

***

In the sixth year boy's dormitory of Gryffindor tower Harry awoke from a fitful sleep.  He reached for his glasses and sat up.

He had been dreaming of Professor Avonell.  There had been great pain, sadness, regret, but he could remember nothing else.  Why had he been dreaming about her?

He retrieved the letter he had received earlier that day, from the bedside table.  Moving to sit in the window, he opened it and read it yet again.

_Dear Harry,_

_I have just learned that Malana Avonell is at Hogwarts again.  This is good.  Trust her, she will have your safety and welfare at heart.  If anything happens, if any danger arrases, seek her company.  She is a powerful and kind woman.  Learn what ever she offers to teach you.  _

_I can tell you no more then this, you are important to her, trust her Harry, she will know what to do._

_As ever,_

_Serious._

He still didn't know what it meant.  He had trusted Professor Avonell almost from the moment he had first met her.  But why would he be important to her?  She hadn't been impressed with his scar, his fame or the fact that he was considered a hero.  But Serious' letter said she would have his safety at heart.  Why would a Witch from America care about his welfare?

He folded the letter and returned it to the drawer in the table.  He considered getting out the invisibility cloak and stealing his way down to her office.  But it was late, after 11 o'clock, would she even be there?  

Questions swarming in his head, he returned to bed and tried to sleep.

***

For nearly two hours, Filch had sat awe struck as the injuries on Snape's body had faded and finally disappeared.  He had watched as the Potions Mater's and Rune Teacher's breathing had fallen into unison.  He would not have been surprised to know that their heartbeats had done the same.

Snape blinked, and the world came back into focus.  The astonished, wide-eyed, open-mouthed face of Filch stared back at him.  Snape's brow furrowed, as he tried to make sense of things.  One minute he had been floating, completely at peace, perhaps for the first time in is life, the next he was being stared at as if he had three heads.  Someone's hands rested feather light on his shoulders, warm and trembling ever so slightly.  He was leaning back, resting against that someone, he could feel them breathing, could almost here their hearts beating.

Reality flooded back and he remembered where his was and why he was there.  He sat upright.  Had she done it?  Had Avonell succeeded in healing him?

Gingerly he touched his lip; there was no pain, no split.  His eye, there was no swelling and he could see out of it.  His nose was back to normal.  He held his hands out and saw no rawness around his wrists.

"Sweet Merlin," Filch whispered, "she did it."

"A mirror," he demanded.

"In the bed chamber," Avonell answered softly.

Snape scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the open entrance, not bothering to even look at the woman who had just done the impossible.

Filch rose slowly.  "If I hadn't seen it for my self," he said looking toward the open bookcase, "Couldn't even say thank you."

Avonell sighed.  "It's typical for the first time, there's usually a great deal of disorientation," she told him, "Argus, would you be so kind as to fetch a change of clothing for Professor Snape?"

Filch nodded and took a step toward the door, but stopped and turned to face the Rune Teacher again.

"Thank you Professor Avonell," he said.

She smiled, "Please Argus, I would prefer it if you were a bit less formal.  My first name is Malana, you are welcome to call me by that."

Filch grinned.

Snape had found the hand mirror on the dresser, and now stood with his back to the ornate full-length mirror, holding the smaller one so that he could see his back.  Only the faintest of red makes betrayed where once deep wounds had been.

_My God, _he thought to himself, _She's done it,_ he glanced at the inside of his left forearm.

"It's still there," Avonell assured him her voice low and soft, "I didn't remove His mark."

He hadn't realized she had entered the room.  

"You've done it," he breathed.  With one final look in the mirror, he razed his eyes to the woman who had brought him back from the threshold of death. "but at what price?"

Avonell looked dreadful.  She leaned against the bedpost for support, her shoulders hunched, her face drawn and sullen.  Her heavily lidded eyes were dull, lacking their usual sparkle, her skin pale and ashen. The front of her dress, smeared with dried blood, his blood.  For the fist time he had ever known, she looked weak and vulnerable. 

"Malana, what's wrong?" 

She tried to smile, but was to exhausted to do so.

"Nothing," she sighed weekly, "that sleep will not cure."

She tried to move to the side of the bed, but her legs gave way beneath her.  Snape rushed to her, catching her and gently lifting her to lie on the bed.  He leaned over her, gazing down into the placid sleeping face. Tenderly he brushed a lock of hair from her face, not knowing what to do, but wanted to do something.  

Schön jumped onto the bed and began nuzzling her hand.

"Let her be," Snape told the cat, shooing him away.

"What have you done to Miss Malana!" shrieked a small voice.

Snape straightened up with a snap and turned toward the source of the screech, realizing with some embarrassment that he was still bare-chested. In the opening to the office stood the house elf Izzy, her eyes wide her hands covering her mouth.

"He's done nothing," Filch growled pushing past the elf.

"She's just asleep," Snape told the house elf.  "She's not to be disturbed, do you understand?"

Izzy nodded, her bat like ears flapping.  "Izzy will take care of Miss Malana."

Snape shook his head as Filch handed the change of cloths to him.  He took the shirt and swung it on.  "I'm staying with her."

"NO!" Izzy squealed, "Professor Snape will not stay!"

"Do not argue with me," Snape snarled advancing on the elf. Izzy shrank back. "She cannot defend herself.  I suppose you could defend her if the Death Eater come back?"

Izzy shook her head vigorously and retreated back into the office.

"Are you sure?"  Filch asked.

Snape nodded, "it's the least I can do Argus."

Izzy returned pushing the ottoman.

"Then Professor Snape will sleep in the chair," she told him sternly.

***

The morning dawned rosy pink.  Professor Avonell stirred and Schön uncurled himself at her side.  She sat up and looked around.  Snape was still asleep in the chair by the fireplace.  He had turned the chair to face the bed, his feet propped on the ottoman, the blanket draped across one shoulder.

"Has he been here all this time?" she asked Schön in barely a whisper. 

The cat responded with a silent meow.

She glanced down at herself, her dress covered in dried blood.  Quietly she slid off the bed and moved to the wardrobe and removed another dress.  Slipping into the bathroom, she cleaned and tidied her self and changed into the fresh dress.  Returning to the room she walked to stand beside the sleeping Snape.

"Severus," she called softly.  He shifted in the chair.  She squatted down by the side of the chair, "Severus, wake up."

He opened his eyes halfway.

"Good morning," she smiled.

Snape smiled and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "You're looking better," he said softly.

Propping her elbow on the chair arm, and her chin on the palm of her hand she met his eyes.

"You know, you should smile more often," she told him, "you have a very alluring smile."

A hint of pink tinged the Potions Master's checks.  Had he just blushed or had it only been the pink of the sunrise reflecting in his face.

"I'm headed for the Great Hall," Avonell said patting him on the arm, "I don't know about you, but I need to eat."  She stood and started for the archway,  "What I'd really like is a good cup of coffee."

Throwing the blanket off of him, Snape scrambled to his feet. 

"Malana, thank you," he called after her, "for healing me."

"Hmm," she chuckled turning back to him, "I'd tell you any time, but then you might take me up on it."

Snape looked puzzled by her flippant remark.

"We are fighting on the same side Severus," she sighed,  "I would have hated to loose such a valuable asset."  She turned, not seeing the scowl her gave her.

-----------------------

Note to my readers.  And I know you're out there, I can see the number of hits going up.  Please take a moment and let me know what you think.  Your opinion is important to me.  

Thanks!


	7. The Gift

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

Wednesday afternoon couldn't come soon enough for Harry.  His last class that day was also his least favorite class, Potions.  

Snape prowled the classroom like a hungry wolf looking for even the smallest of mistakes.

"That potions' too thick!" he hissed malevolently to one student.  "That's the wrong color," to another.

"He's in a bad mood," Harry whispered to Ron, when Snape was across the room.

"Has been all week, so I hear," Ron returned, adding crushed beetle to the caldron he and Harry were working on.

 Snape glared at them.

"Careful," Harry warned under his breath, "I don't want to be kept after."

Harry glanced at his watch, 15 minutes to go.  He and Ron continued working in silence.  As Harry tipped a bottle of Mare's sweat into their caldron, he stole another glance at his watch, 10 minutes to go.  But in doing so he split some of the liquid into the fire, causing it to sputter and spit furiously.  Snape spun around and glared at them viciously. 

"Mister Potter," he said very slowly.

"S … Sorry Sir," Harry gulped.

Snape turned away and continued prowling the classroom.

Ron shook his head giving him a look of warning.

When the class finally ended, Harry hurriedly gathered his things.  As he started for the door, Snape's low voice stopped him, "One moment Mr. Potter."  Harry froze.  Ron gave him a look that plainly said; _I'll see you latter, and left._

Harry looked up at the Potions Master, meeting his dark eyes.

"I would appreciate it, that when you are in my class," he said malevolently, "you would keep your mind on my class!"

"Ye … yes Sir.  It won't happen again," Harry stammered under the intensity of glare the Potions Master gave him.

"Now go!"  Snapped Snape, pointing to the door.

Harry scrambled out of the classroom and didn't slow down until he had reached the top of the stairs leading up from the dungeons.

_Now why on earth,_ he thought to himself, _did I let him intimidate me like that?_  Shrugging to himself he proceeded up the next flight of stairs to the second floor.

He found Professor Avonell's classroom empty.  Had she forgotten she had promised to meet him?  He glanced around the room and saw that the door to her office was open.  He walked over and looked in.

"Hello, Harry," Avonell greeted him.  She was standing behind her desk, leaning over a rather large opened book.  "Please come in."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, "We were going to start . . ."

"We were going to start your training," she completed his thought.  "Please sit," she indicated the chairs by the fire.  He sat.  She closed the book and returned it to the shelves.

"You start tonight, by learning how to discipline your mind," she said removing a small black velvet box from a drawer in her desk.  "I'm afraid it's not very glamorous, but it is a fundamental part of the whole Technique," she walked over to him and sat down facing him.

"How do I do that?" He asked.

"You start with this," she handed him the box.

He accepted the box and was surprised to find it was a ring box.  Slowly he opened it.  Nestled inside was a golden ring set with a large ruby held between to apposing lions, the tails of which form the shank of the ring.

"Wow," the word escaped his lips more like a breath then a word.

"Go ahead, take it out," she urged him gently.   He removed the ring and set the box aside.

Avonell crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap.  "Now Harry, if this is going to work, you must trust me," she began, "you must listen to what I tell you, do as I tell you, and trust both me, and yourself."

He looked at her, "I don't understand," he told her.

"You soon will," she replied.  "Now sit back and get comfortable."

He did as he was told.

"Now hold the ring before you, so that you can support it in the figures of both hands," she continued, her tone slipping into a soft monotone.

He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and held the ring between his figure tips.

"Now, I want you to look into the ruby.  Relax.  Breathe in through your nose --- and out through you mouth.  Good," her voice was calm and soothing.

Harry gazed into the ruby letting him self relax.

"Very good," she continued, "Now I want you to center your thoughts, see only the ruby, think of nothing else.  Now see into the stone, into its depths." 

Harry did.  He had the strange sensation his was moving downward, into the ruby.

"Don't stop, you're doing fine," she went on, her volume lowering so that Harry had to strain to hear her.  "Find the center of the stone.  Good, good.  There is a light in the center, I want you to allow that light to shine."

Harry concentrated, the ruby seeming to fill his field of vision.  He stared into its many facets, into the very heart of the gem for long time.  Slowly, feebly a pinprick of light glowed at the very center of the stone. He jumped, dropping the ring from his fingers.

"Easy," Avonell soothed as she bent over and retrieved the ring.

"I . . . I'm sorry, Professor," he apologized.

"Not to worry," she said smiling at him warmly, "but I must say I'm very impressed.  It usually takes many hours of practice before the light is seen.  It took you," she glanced at the mantel clock, looked back at him and raised an eyebrow, "twenty minutes?" she handed the ring back to him.

"What's next?" he asked anxiously. "Can I try again?"

Avonell sat back and regarded the teenager.  "Latter.  But you will need to be able to get the light glowing much brighter before we can move on."

"How much brighter?" he wanted to know.

She smiled and extended her hand.  Harry dropped the ring into her palm and watched as she too propped her elbows on the chair arms and supported the ring in the figures of both hands.  She closed her eyes half way and instantly the ruby glowed with a bright intense light.

"Oh," he sighed dejectedly.

"Don't worry, Harry, it will come.  I've been doing this for a very long time, and you don't need to get it glowing quite that bright for us to move on," she assured him.  "I want you to keep this ring, after all it was your father's."

Harry sat up, accepting the ring back, "It was?" he muttered, "then he studied the technique too?"

She shook her head, "no he never did.  The ring was given to him by his – parents when he started at Hogwarts, but he was never interested in studying with me."

"How did you come to have it?" he asked looking her in the eyes.

"That, my son, is a very long story.  One I am not ready to tell, or that you are ready to hear." 

Harry shuttered and averted his eyes, "you are not my mother," he whispered.

"No, you are right.  I won't refer to you that way again.  I'm sorry," she apologized. 

They sat in silence for several moments.

"I want you to practice," she said finally breaking the quite.  "But don't go flashing that ring around.  It might make certain people jealous, and I wouldn't want it to go missing."

"I understand," he nodded reaching for the box.  He placed the ring in the box and slipped it into a pocket in his robes.

"We'll meet again in one week to see how you are getting on," she told him soothingly.

"Thank you, Professor," he said getting to his feet.

"One other thing, if you don't mind?" her voice was still soft and gentle.  "If you ever find the need to talk with someone, about anything, you are welcome any time."

"Thank you," he said just as softly.

In the hallway he leaned against the wall.  He felt tired, but good.  He felt the ring box in his pocket and smiled to himself.  Something else of his father's he now had possession of.  But why did Professor Avonell have it?

He shrugged.  It was nearly dinnertime, and he was hungry.  He hurried off, wanting to hide the ring in his dorm room before going to the Great Hall for dinner.

***

That night, Harry stole out of the common room early.  He wanted to try one more time with the ring before he went to sleep.  He changed into his pajamas and retrieved the ring box from his trunk.  He drew the hangings around his bed closed and sat cross-legged.  Holding the ring before him, he tried to make it glow again.

"Harry, can I talk to you a minute," it was Neville.  He pulled back the hangings catching sight of the ring before Harry could conceal it.  "Oh, you have one too," he added excitedly.  Neville held out his hand and showed Harry a sapphire about the size of a large marble, but it was just the stone, it wasn't set into a ring.

Harry nodded, stuffing the ring back into its box.

"Have you been able to make it glow yet?" Neville asked anxiously.

"No," he lied.

"I haven't either," the other boy sighed.  "But Professor Avonell thinks I can learn to do it.  But I have no idea what good it will do me."

"You never know," Harry, answered him.

"Do you trust Professor Avonell?" Neville asked.  "She said I have to trust her."

"She's a good woman," Harry said recalling his note form Serious. 

"But do you trust her?"

"Yes," he told the other boy. "Yes I do," Harry faked a yawn. "I'm tired Neville.  Good night."

Neville sighed and left Harry, who snuggled down into his bed, tucking the ring box into his pillowcase.

_Why did she have the ring? _He asked himself again.

It occurred to him to send a letter to Serious and ask him if he knew, but harry hadn't realized just how tired he was.  Getting out of bed to write that letter didn't seem all that important at the moment.

***

Harry heard the high cold laughter he had come to associate with Voldemort, but there was another laugh as well.  A low guttural laugh that made is blood run cold.

Out of the swirling mist of a dream he saw the slender silhouette of Voldemort approaching him.  Beside him walked a second, strange figure.  This figure had the body of a well-muscled adult man, but it had the head of a Jackal.  It was bear-chested, except for semi-curricular collar of gold and white, and there was a golden ring through each nipple.  It wore a white pleated skirt over strong legs and sandals on its feet.  Its skin was well tanned and its yellow eyes glared at Harry.

Slowly the Jackal-headed man raised an arm and pointed at him.

"Yes," the dark Lord hissed, "that's the boy.  But I want the woman also.  You promised me the woman as well, Nefru."

"Av-o-nell," the Jackal-headed man growled, and both laughed.

"Yes, it will be a fitting piece of revenge," The Dark Lord continued, "you'll see.  For all those involved."

"Do what you will," the other creature grumbled, "I care not, so long as she is destroyed in the end."

They both laughed again, a horrible malicious laugh.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed gasping for air, his scare searing with pain.

_It was just a dream, _he told himself, _only a dream._

But it hadn't felt much like a dream, it had felt real.

He scrambled out of the bed, retrieved the invisibility cloak from his trunk, and crept to the door.

"Where are you going?" yawned Ron from his bed.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," Harry answered, "go back to sleep."

"Oh ok," Ron muttered and rolled over.

Harry waited for moment to make sure that he had gone back to sleep, before heading out of the dorm.

In the stairwell he swung the cloak over himself and started down.  It was nearly midnight, and there was only one other person in the common room, a first year boy who had fallen asleep in front of the fire. As quietly as possible he stole across the room and pushed open the portrait hole.  The Fat Lady was gone, obviously off on a nighttime visit, he was grateful for that.  Harry made his way down staircases and through hallways until he stood in front of Professor Avonell's office door.

He knocked on the door, and then waited.  No answer.  He knocked again harder.  Still nothing.  He pounded on the door this time, and waited again.  Getting no response, he pounded again, glancing nervously down the hallway expecting to see Filch coming toward him.  In desperation pounded on more time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming.  Keep your shirt on already," came a voice from inside.

Harry whipped off the invisibility cloak just as the door snapped open.  A sleepy eyed Professor Avonell was staring down at him in disbelief.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She asked.

"I have to talk to you," he demanded.

It was obvious that the youth was not going to be turned back.

"Ok," she sighed stepping aside to allow him to enter.

Fifteen minutes latter, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, Harry finished recounting his dream.

Professor Avonell was silent for a very long moment, her fingers steepled in front of her mouth, studying Harry intently.  She lowered her hands.

"Harry, have you been reading Hermione's Rune textbooks lately?"  She asked. 

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Because the creature you've described is Anubis, the Egyptian god who lead the dead to judgment," she told him.  "And Hermione's Rune class is studying Egyptian Hieroglyphs." 

Harry shook his head and sipped at his tea.

"Look, it was just a dream.  But I can see how much it has upset you," she continued.  "Understand that for right now you are safe.  I know that you have an invisibility cloak and that you probably used it to get here tonight.  Go back to your dorm . . ."

"But . . ." he started to protest.

"Harry, you can't stay here," she cut him off.  "Nothing is going to happen tonight.  I give you my word on that," she cocked her head slightly.  "And I am a woman of my word."

Harry nodded and sat his cup down.

"Thank you Professor," he said getting to his feet.

"We will talk about this again tomorrow," she told him.

He smiled and saw himself out.

Avonell sighed heavily.

"Meow?" Schön cried slinking out of the shadows.

"Nefru – Nefra, I admit they are close," she replied to the cat's question, "but I really don't think so.  Or at least I hope not.  If Nefra is involved then we have fare more trouble then we bargained for."

She paused a moment before getting to her feet.

"But why the image of Anubis?" she mumbled to herself.

***

At breakfast the next morning Harry told Ron and Hermione about the events of the previous night.

"I think the Professor was right Harry," Hermione was saying, "you must have seen the picture of Anubis in my textbook."

Harry frowned.

"Where is Avonell?" Ron asked looking up at the staff table.

"Sometimes she eats in her office," Hermione informed them.

"When do you see her?"  Harry asked his friends.

"I see her this afternoon," Hermione said excitedly.

"I see her tomorrow, before lunch," Ron added, but he didn't sound too enthusiastic about it.

"Don't you want to learn the technique?" she asked.

"Well," Ron answered, "it's just that I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

"She got Neville trying," Harry said absently.

"Neville?" Ron repeated disbelievingly. 

"Where there you are Ron," Hermione said, "if Neville can do it, so can you."

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said resolutely, "why not?"

Harry looked up from his half eaten breakfast.

"I just hope we can learn before you-know-who shows up," he said glumly.

At that moment, Schön leapt up on to seat next to Harry.

"I'm sorry Schön, I can't give you anything," he told the cat, with out looking at him.

Schön deposited a folded piece of parchment next to Harry's plate.

"What's that?" Ron asked straining to see as Harry unfolded the note.

"It's from Professor Avonell," he said reading it, "She wants to talk to me about my dream."  

"You shouldn't have bothered her with it," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head, "it seemed like the right thing to do at the time," he sighed.

***

Harry entered Professor Avonell's office hesitantly.  Her note had said to come at 6:00, but she wasn't there.  Could she be in the classroom?  He started for the connecting door.

"Oh good, you're on time," came Avonell's voice.

He turned to find her standing tin the opening in the bookcase.

"I'm sorry," he answered with out thinking.

"Sorry about what?"  She asked moving toward him, "your really shouldn't apologize automatically like that.  There are some people who might take that as a sign of weakness."

Harry shrugged in response.

"Please, have a seat," she said as she took one herself.

Harry sat facing the Professor.

"Now, about that dream you had."

"You were right, it was only a dream.  I shouldn't have bothered you . . ."

"Last night you thought you should," she interrupted him.  "It upset you enough to risk breaking more then one school rule to come down here."

"It's just that . . . that it seemed so real," he told her.

"Dreams can be like that at times," she sat back, "have you ever had prophetic dreams before?"

"Prophetic?"

"Dreams that have latter come true?"

Harry thought for several moments.

"Not really . . . sort of  . . . I'm not sure," he finally replied.

"Why do you suppose you had that dream?" she asked calmly.

"I don't know," he told her.

"Ok," she sighed, "I know that you have survived encounters with Voldemort twice, three times if you included his memory."

Harry looked up at her.

"Oh yes, the Headmaster told me all of it," she answered his unasked question.

"He killed my parents, and he wanted to kill me," Harry whispered, "and I don't even know why . . . really."

"Well, unless he bothers to explain himself, or you're a mind reader, I'm afraid you may never know," she said gently.

"You knew my father," he said looking up at the Professor, "do you know why . . ."

"I'm sorry, I don't," she said flatly.

Harry held her gaze, somehow, he wasn't sure how, he knew that wasn't the truth.

"That's not true," he said very slowly.

"Excuse me?" Avonell said raising her eyebrows.

"That's not true," he repeated, "you do know why Voldemort killed my parents."

"And just what makes you say that?" she said her voice betraying a touch of embarrassment.

"I can just tell," he answered, not really sure how he did know that.

"Hmm," she studied the teen for a minute.  "Can you at least try and explain?"

"I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your presence," Harry answered timidly after a long pause.

"Very interesting," Avonell said with a sly smile.  "Has this ever happened with anyone else?"

"No," Harry responded quickly.  Then after a short pause, "well, once but Hermione said I was just being paranoid."

Professor Avonell drew a long breath and let it out slowly,  "It's called Truth Reading," she explained,  "and before you start thinking about how great it's going to be, let me explain a few things.

"First of all the truth can be a very cruel companion, it will tell you things you'd rather not know, and secondly, the truth is not always absolute.  Truth can be highly subjective and what you may read as the truth from one person, you may read as a lie from another."

Harry starred at her completely confused.

"Ok," she began again,  "let me think.  Truths about facts are simple enough; did you or didn't you do something, for example.  But even that has its complications.  When truth involves any measure of opinion it get very complex."

"But you do know why my parents were killed," Harry pushed.

"I only believe I know.  Remember your father was only 16 the last time I saw him," she told him in a very serious voice.

"Then why do you believe they were killed?" the teen pressed.

"I can't . . . answer that," the Professor said sadly, "Please, don't ask me again."

Harry pouted.  "Can you at least tell me why you had my father's ring?"

"Not at this time." 

It was an answer Harry didn't want to hear.  How many times in the last 5 years had he been told that?  Why were there so many secrets?

"But we've gotten off the subject here," Avonell said softly, "I asked you here to talk about that dream…"

They talked for another hour, before the Professor brought the session to an end.

"Perhaps in the future, should this happen again, you could wait until morning?" she asked, then continued before Harry had had a chance to say anything, "or at least give me a warning."

"Ah . . . how?" he asked.

"I suppose the fireplace in your common room is a bit too public," she said getting to her feet.  "I'm going to give you something, but please don't go showing it to people."  She went to her desk and removed something from a drawer, "it's not exactly magic, but it does work."

Returning to the fireplace she handed Harry what looked like a small silver disk about the size of a Muggle coin and slightly thicker. 

"Just squeeze it and it will send a signal to my computer, who will in turn, let me know you're on your way," she explained.

Harry turned the disk over in his hand.  "What if you're not in your office?" he questioned.

"Don't worry, I'll get the message.  Now you best be getting back to Gryffindor tower."

"Thank you Professor," he told her, putting the disk in his pocket.  "I'll see you next Wednesday?"

She nodded and saw him out.

"Schön," she called to the cat, who appeared from under the desk, "I think we need to see Professor Dumbledore."


	8. Revelations

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

Professor Avonell wasted no time in seeing Dumbledore, but when she entered his office, she was surprised to find that the Headmaster already had company.

"Ah Professor," Dumbledore greeted her, "we were just about to come see you."  

He was seated behind his desk, Snape stood nearby brooding, and in the chair before the desk she could see the top of a pale haired man.

"Yes, Headmaster?" she replied crossing the room.

Lucius Malfoy rose from the chair turning to stair coldly at her.

"Yes.  Mr. Malfoy has lodged a complaint against you, I'm afraid," Dumbledore sighed heavily.  

"And what might that complaint be?" she address Malfoy, showing no sign of surprise at his presence.

"You have been threatening my son," Malfoy stated calmly.

"I've done nothing of the kind," she retorted.

"According to what he has told me, you were rather abusive the other evening in the Grate Hall," he leered at her.

"As I remember, he was delivering a message for you, Mr. Malfoy.  In the future, it might be wise to have him paraphrase your messages rather then repeat them verbatim.  That or you should choose your words more carefully."  She said icily.  "I will not be spoken to in those terms by mer student."

"It would be best," Malfoy flared, and then regained control again, "if, in the future, you were to treat my son with more respect."

"I treat all students with the respect he or she deserves," Avonell returned tersely.

Malfoy tensed at her implication. 

"As head of the boy's house," Snape began silkily, moving towards them, "I will see to it, that there are no further problems."

"Thank you Professor," Malfoy drawled, turning his attention to Snape,  "that would be appreciated.  But the complaint still stands," he continued looking back at Avonell with a look of pure contempt.

Avonell inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement, and Malfoy sauntered from the room. 

"You wanted to see me?" Dumbledore addressed her.

"If you will excuse me Headmaster," Snape interrupted.

"No Severus, you need to hear this too.  All the staff will need to be informed," Avonell said seriously.  "It seems that our Mr. Potter can Truth Read."

"Moving him along rather fast, aren't you?" Snape said venomously.

"Granted, exposure to me was most likely the catalyst," she sighed, "and it may only be with me, at this time however.  But I didn't teach this to him, at least not intentionally." 

"This is a problem," Dumbledore replied soberly.

"There is another choice Headmaster, I could use a rapport and block his ability.  It won't might not last more than a few months, but it will give us time," she explained.

"That might be too risky," the Headmaster, said thoughtfully, "I think it might just be better to be truthful when dealing with Mr. Potter."

"And what is to be done if he asks for information we don't want him to have?"  Snape inquired.

"Be evasive," Dumbledore looked up at the Potions Master, "or simply tell him you cannot answer.  That wouldn't be a lie," looking back at Professor Avonell he added, "A rapport should be our last option."

"Understood," replied Avonell accepting Dumbledore's position.

"Thank you for warning us Malana," Dumbledore said, "Now if you will excuse me, I have a letter to write before I retired for the night."

Avonell bowed slightly and she and Professor Snape left the office.

"How do you know Potter can Truth Read?" Snape asked as the emerged into the hallway.

"He caught me in a lie, or a partial lie anyway," she shrugged, "and called me on the carpet for it."

"And you didn't teach him this?"

"Severus, I've only met with the boy twice.  There hasn't been time to teach him much of anything," she told him, "I've Truth Read him more then once, the only thing I can figure is that . . . " she paused, "he may be learning by example."

"Is that really possible?" replied Snape disbelievingly.

"As I remember, you learned to extend your senses by just watching me," she pointed out.

"Yes, I did.  But I had been studying with you for two months before that happened," he reminded her coldly,  "But I suppose Potter is rather special," he added distastefully.

"No more then you were, and are, Professor," she replied quietly.

Snape stopped and gave her an odd sort of expression.

"Harry only managed a weak glowing in his stone on his first attempt, not quite as bright as you managed, but still . . ." she paused and gave him a small smile.  "Good night Professor."

Snape watched her for a few moments, before descending the stairs towards the dungeons.

As Avonell made her way back to her office, she considered the events of the day.

Nefra was her adversary, why had Harry dreamed about him?  Where Harry's dreams shadows of the things to come?  How had the boy been able to Truth Read when he could barely control his mind enough to make the his crystal glow?

So preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't notice the figure that stepped out of the shadows behind her.

"You're slipping Professor Avonell," Lucius Malfoy purred.

Avonell spun around immediately on the defensive.

"What is it you want, Death Eater?" she asked coldly.

"Ah, but you can't prove that, can you?"  He said smoothly, his pale gray eyes gleaming, "You returned the only proof you had."

He began to approach her menacingly. 

"Why did you come here Malfoy?" she countered holding her ground.

"As I said, my son . . ."

"Is that how you are raising your son," she spat, "to come running to Daddy every time he doesn't get his way.  Really Lucius, I would have expected . . ."

Malfoy closed the distance between them it two steps, seizing her by the wrist and twisting her arm painfully behind he, looping his other arm around her waist, pressing the head of his walking stick between her shoulders.

"I'd be careful, if I were you," he warned her in a low dangerous voice, and giving her a wicked smile.

He nuzzled her ear and then kissed her on the check.  She tried to avoid his advances, but he only twisted her arm more severely. 

"I can have you any time I want," he breathed.

"It wouldn't be the first time you've tried," she growled, "and failed!"

She wrenched herself out of his grasp, but before she could do more he struck her across the face.  She staggered back from the force of his blow.

"Is there a problem . . . Lucius?"  Snape's voice seemed to come out of nowhere.

Malfoy turned to find the Professor standing a few feet away.

"No, not at all," he replied smoothly.

"Then allow me to see you out," Snape hissed.

Malfoy turned back to Avonell and saluted her with his walking stick.

"Good evening Professor," he said then turned back to Snape.  Together they receded down the hallway.

Avonell watched after them for several heartbeats, before turning on her heel and heading for her office, rubbing her sore jaw.

***

Once Professor Snape and Malfoy had reached the front hall, Snape broke the silence.

"Malana is not a woman to be trifled with, Lucius," he warned the other wizard.

"So it's Malana, is it?" Malfoy chuckled, "surely, Severus, you don't still harbor that school boy's crush on her?"

"Our Master is not yet strong enough to defeat Avonell," Snape hissed contemptuously,  "if she is to be dealt with, it would be best to take her off her guard."

"Yes," Malfoy said slowly, "I see your point.  Still I would be careful if I were you Severus, she is a cunning vixen." 

Snape glared at him.  

"Good night, Lucius," he growled, and watched as Malfoy exited the Castle.

He started for the stone staircase that lead down into the dungeons, but stopped at the head of the stairs.  He stood there for several moments, then turned and headed back to the second floor.

As he turned down the hallway leading to Professor Avonell's office, he was mildly surprised to find her standing the hallway talking to Argus Filch.

"If she won't take this," she was saying as he approached them, "then try her on pat of butter."

"I will.  Thank you," Filch replied then looking up at Snape and seeing the look on his face, he added "hair balls."

Snape nodding understandingly, _Cat people, he thought to himself._

"Thank you again," Filch repeated, "Good night Professor Avonell.  Professor Snape."

As Filch left, Snape reached out to turn Avonell's face to him.  She resisted at first, then gave in and turned to face him.  He scowled seeing the slight swelling and bruising along her jaw line.

"You should see Madam Pomfrey about that," he told her sternly.

"It will be gone by morning," she assured him a bit uneasily. 

"What did Malfoy want?" Snape questioned.

Avonell shook her head and turned to open the door, "Nothing," she sighed.

Snape followed her into the office, knowing that 'nothing' was not the truth.

"I saw him hit you," he told her.

She walked to the desk and turned to face him, "Please Severus, don't push this."

"What did he do?" Snape asked ignoring her request, "what has he failed at before?"

She leaned back against the desk and sighed deeply.

"It happened a long time ago," she said wearily, "it's best that it stays in the past."

He moved closer to her, "what happened?" he asked in a tone that betrayed his determination.

She shuttered visibly and Snape move to stand next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.  She was trembling slightly as he gently drew to her to him.  She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment before speaking again.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she whispered.

"No," his answer was soft but resolute.

She drew another deep breath and moved away from him.

"What do you know about my husband's death?" asked Avonell as she walked to the chairs by the fire.

"Only that it was ruled as an accident," he replied.

She sank into a chair a faraway look on her face.

"You know what I am," it was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"That you are Sevlorian, yes," answered Snape as he walked over and sat in the chair opposite her.

Her expression was haunted, the fire light reflected in her eyes making them appear a darker shade of blue, as she starred unseeing, lost in memory.

"Lucius Malfoy was working for the Ministry of Magic even back then.  He was also rising through the ranks of the Death Eaters.  He was out to make a name for himself, wanting to get in tothe good graces with the Dark Lord, so he used his connections with the Ministry to gain access to information not otherwise obtainable . . ." her voice trailed off and she was silent for several moments before continuing.

"He was able to gather enough evidence, put enough of the pieces together that, like so many before him, he mistook extreme longevity for immortality"

"Your not immortal," he stated softly.

"No," she said turning her eyes to meet his.

"But with your powers of healing . . ." 

"It's fare easier for me to heal someone else then to heal myself," she told him a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth, but it faded quickly, "To each action there are consequences."

Snape nodded, remembering how weak and vulnerable she had been after his healing.

"Malfoy was convinced that I held the secret to eternal life and was determined to take that secret to Voldemort."

She turned to stare into the fire, gripping the arms of the chair in an attempt to hide the trembling in her hands.  Obviously these memories were not easy for her.  Snape was beginning to regret having pushed her to this.

"I understand," he told her gently.

"No, I don't think you do," Avonell said, the trembling now in her voice as well.  She turned back to face him, "Lucius showed up one afternoon, while my husband and son were gone.  I was caught off guard, and he tried to take advantage of the situation, first trying for seduction, and failing that . . ." she drew a shuttering breath "I was able to fight him off, but I was disheveled by the struggle.

"Determined to get what he had come for, he threatened to expose me for what I was," she looked away again.

"You don't have to go on," Snape told her softly, reaching out and placed his hand on hers, but she withdrew from his touch.

She shook her head and continued slowly, "When it became apparent that threats weren't going to work either he went into a rage, demanding that I give him the secret he sought.  I tried to tell him there was no secret, but he – refused to believe me," she fell silent again.

"I've never seen anyone so enraged," she whispered hollowly,  "I don't think he meant to kill but . . . he put so much force behind that curse . . ." she swallowed hard, trying to blink back the tears welling in her eyes.

"When he cast his curse, I had no time to react and was barely able to diverted it," she drew a ragged breath, the tears overwhelming her attempts to hold them back. "I didn't see Basil enter the room just as I . . . I," she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip.  

"He took the full force of the curse," Avonell continued her voice slightly higher in pitch then was normal for her, "it was a quick death, but hideously painful."

Snape said nothing, there had been many rumors about the death of Avonell's husband, but this had not been one of them.

"Our son had followed his father into the room by a few seconds, Lucius was thinking faster then I was," she wiped the tears from her cheeks, "He accused me of casting the curse.  That I had been trying to seduce him and had cast it when Basil discovered us," she raised her eyes to look deeply into his, "I never knew if my son believed Malfoy or not, but he never forgave me for his father's death," she was struggling to maintain control.

"I'm sorry," whispered Snape, truly meaning what he said.

"Severus, I'm grateful you came along when you did.  I'm not sure what Malfoy would have done, or I for that matter, if you hadn't been there," she continue holding his gaze for several more moments before closing he eyes again.  "I'm sorry Severus, but I am tired and I do have a class first thing in the morning."

"Are you . . . going to be all right?" he asked.

She could tell his concern was genuine, but whished he would just go.

"I could stay if you need me to," he offered softly, regretting what he had just put her through.

"Thank you, but no," she answered him not meeting his gaze.

He sat there a moment or two longer, knowing the depth of the truth she had just shared with him, and understanding her need for solitude.  Slowly he stood and moved to the door, but before his hand reached the knob, he turned back to find her standing facing the fire.  He could see her trembling, fighting to stay in control of her self.  A choked sob escaped her in spite of her best efforts.

Snape cover the distance between them swiftly, turning her into him and cradling her in his arms, he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I'm sorry.  I had no right to push you, to make you remember," he whispered in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

Gently, with out malice or anger, she pushed him back.

"Please Severus, I really need to you go," she told him with difficulty. 

Snape nodded and reluctantly left. 

***

Over the next several weeks, work on the scroll went untouched.  It only when Professor Snape had shown up at Avonell's office one Saturday afternoon in early October, demanding that they work on it, that the two Professors settled down for another go.

After two hours they had identified small words like: the, of, is and in.  As well as a few longer works such as: there, from, and, has and you.

Avonell was seated at the desk pouring over the parchment while Snape worked on the blackboard.

"We must be wrong somewhere," he snarled, backing away from the board, "that's not a word."

Avonell looked up and went very pale, Snape had written H-I-E-Y-E-L.  Slowly she stood.

"Maybe not in English, but in Sevlorian . . ." she picked up a piece of chalk wrote the word a second time, placing an apostrophe in the middle, "It's pronounced Hi-yeel" her voice barely more then a whisper.

"What does it mean?" asked Snape.

Avonell didn't answer.  She had snatched up the parchment and had begun writing franticly on the board.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on?" he demanded hotly.

The chalk she was using crumbled under the pressure of her writing.

"This is no good," she muttered, tossing what was left of the chalk back into to the tray.

She bolted down between the rows of desks.

"Stay there," she ordered, "I'll be right back."

She disappeared into her office and reappeared a few seconds latter with the computer in her hands.  Snape watched as, facing the blackboard, she opened the notebook and slid the parchment next to the keyboard.

"What is that thing?" scowled Snape in distaste.

"It's a – computer," she answered shortly.

"Muggle technology doesn't . . ."

"It's not Muggle, and it does work," she interrupted him, "now let me work!"

He watched in amazement as her fingers dance over the keyboard with the precision that only comes with prolonged use. Glancing between computer screen and scroll, with an occasional glance at the blackboard, her expression became graver as she worked.

Snape move in behind her to peer over her should and watch as letters appeared on the screen.  From time to time Avonell stroked a small black panel below the keys and the point at which the letters where appearing changed.

Slowly words where beginning to take from.

" . . . Instructions for the use and operations . . ."

" . . . there are know to be six . . ."

" . . . six symbols representing the . . ."

The longer she worked the more Avonell's hands began to tremble, until she was unable to continue.

"CIM," she snapped in an authoritative tone, "extrapolate and complete!"

The screen went wild, missing letters popped up at random all over the screen.  A minute or so latter it stopped.

Snape leaned further over her shoulder to read the last line.

"Yours in alliance, Nefra."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Avonell muttered swaying slightly on her feet.

Instinctively Snape put his hand on her waist to steady her.  She leaned back into him for the support it offered her.  He found this very pleasing, to have her against him like this.  Suddenly she pulled away.

"CIM, I need a hard copy of this," she called starting back towards her office door, Snape following after her.

"What is going on?" he demanded.

"We've got to get this to Dumbledore," she answered hurriedly, "I'll explain on the way."

She retrieved a peace of paper from the bookcase behind her desk and turned to face him, he face pale and there was a hint of fear in her eyes.

"This is not good," she told him, "this is so not good."

She rolled up the paper and headed for the door.

Avonell never did explain anything on the way to the Headmaster's office; she had nearly run the entire way.  It was only after they had stepped on to the moving stairs that would take them to the office door, that she said anything.

"If this message has been replaced, if Voldemort has allied himself with Nefra, there's going to be some real trouble," she told him.

"Who is Nefra?" asked Snape deliberately.

But before she could answer him, they reached the top of the stairs and she burst through the door into the office.

"Albus, we have trouble," she announced as she crossed to his desk.

Dumbledore looked up from his writing.

"This message is from Nefra," she said brandishing the paper, but didn't actually giving it to him, "it's instructions on how to use the _hie'yel_ ports."

"Who's Nefra?" the Headmaster asked calmly.

"Oh, he's only my biggest adversary, and he would stop at nothing, I repeat nothing to see me eliminated," she explained agitatedly, starting to pace.

"And an _hie'yel_ port, what is that?" was Dumbledore's next question.

"It's a transport device.  It can get you from point A to point B hundreds of miles away in a matter of seconds," she continued gesturing dramatically with the rolled up paper she held.

Snape tried to grab her wrist but she moved swiftly out of his reach.

"He knows about the port here at Hogwarts."

The two men exchanged puzzled looks.

"The mirror in my room?"  She pointed out, "but it's not operational at the moment."

As she past him, Snape made another try for the paper, but missed again.

"If this communication has been replaced, and I have reason to believe that it has, then the Dark Lord has a powerful and alien ally."

On the third attempt, Snape succeeded in catching her wrist.  Giving her a stern look he removed the rolled paper from her hand and gave it to Dumbledore.

Avonell collapsed into a nearby chair as the old wizard read the message.

Dumbledore looked up as he finished reading and handed the paper to Snape to read.

"And what is this _Kurr_ that is mentioned?" he asked still calm.

"A drug, a very powerful drug.  I know what it does to me, but I'm not sure how it will affect a wizard.  Although . . ." she looked up at Snape as reached up and touched the spot behind his left ear where the puncture wound had been.

"And how does it effect you?" asked Dumbledore, drawing her attention back to him.

"It leaves me completely helpless," she shuttered violently, "I can't defend myself, not physically or mentally," she paused, "I think he may have experimented and used it on you, Severus," she added looking back at the Potions Master.

Dumbledore turned his attention to the younger wizard. "what effect did this _Kurr, have on you?"_

"I passed out at first, but otherwise as she described," his body tensing at the memory.

Avonell nodded, "Voldemort doesn't know the dosage yet.  It doesn't take much to work.  If the dose is too much, it will cause unconsciousness at first."

"It was like being really drunk," Snape explained, "except that I remember everything that was said and done."

"Oh yes, your completely aware of what's going on, you just can't do anything about it," Avonell nodded, "it's very fast acting and quite slow to wear off," she shuttered again, "it's really nasty stuff."

"You did say the port in your rooms is not – operational?" Dumbledore pushed on.

"I removed the key as soon as I knew it was here," she assured him, "but there's one at the hospital and I have been using it to get there to treat the Longbottoms.  I may have to stop using it now."

"And where is this Nefra person?" asked Snape.

"I have no idea," she shrugged, "but I'll see what I can find out," she paused, "I don't think he's here, at any rate.  But it may be difficult to track him down."

"Well, it seems then we have nothing to do except wait.  At least for now," Dumbledore concluded, "Good work, both of you."

"Headmaster, I didn't . . ." Snape started.

"Thank you Albus," she cut in, "I couldn't have done it alone."

Snape gave her an odd sort of look and she half shrugged in return.  She stood and started for the door.

"I'll let you know if I find anything," Avonell said as she opened the door.

Dumbledore looked up a Snape, who nodded and followed after Avonell.

He caught with her near the stairs leading to the Front Hall.  She had been moving quickly and was slightly out of breath when she saw him.

"Something else?" she asked tersely as he reached her.

He started to answer.

"The translation is complete Professor, you're quite welcome to go back to hating me," she quipped mildly and then turning on her heal, sweeping off.

Snape rolled his eyes in exasperation and headed back to the dungeons.  

***

"Professor," called Harry, his voice betraying his annoyance, "Professor, you're doing it again."

Professor Avonell snapped out of her reverie with a start.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "I'm sorry.  I've just got a lot on my mind today."

"That's the second time in the last hour," Harry complained, slumping back in his chair.

It was Sunday afternoon.  With Harry's rapid progress with the Technique, he was seeing the Professor twice a week now.  This session she had had him trying to move a large glass marble across the table using only his thoughts.  But twice now he had found her starring off into space, her mind somewhere completely different.

"I made it move, and you weren't even paying attention," he whined.

Avonell looked down.  The marble, which had started out directly in front of her, now rested near the center of the table between them.  It had moved nearly ten inches this time.

"Ok," Avonell said, picking up the marble and putting in back in front of her, "one more time."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "are you going to pay attention this time?" he asked.

"Don't you get surly with me, young man," Avonell warned him.

"You've been preoccupied all afternoon," he said sternly, "what's going on?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned with," she said absently, clearing away a speck of dust on the table's surface.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"That's not true," he stated slowly and deliberately.

Avonell raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just because you can Truth Read, doesn't give you the right to always act on that knowledge," she told him.  "You've got Hermione thoroughly spooked, much more of it and you're going to loose her friendship."

Harry frowned, he knew she was right, but didn't like having to admit it.

"Now move the marble," Avonell said in a harsh whisper, as she leaned forward.

Harry fixed his gaze on the glass sphere and it shot off the table.

"That was a little over done," sighed Avonell exasperatedly. 

Harry jumped up from his chair and leaned over the table at her.

"I don't see how this is going to help me if Voldemort tries to cast an Unforgivable curse at me!" he shouted in frustration.

"It's all about control, Harry," she returned sternly, getting to her feet as well, "an undisciplined mind will have no chance at deflecting or disbursing even the simplest of spells."

The locked stares for several heartbeats, before Harry sank back into his chair.  Avonell too returned to her seat.  She drew a deep breath and looked at the marble on the floor several feet away.  It stirred then rose in a graceful arch, landing gently in the palm of her hand.  She placed it back on the table in front of her.

"Now," she said softly, "let's try it again."


	9. Lessons

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

When Harry finally left Professor Avonell's office, he felt utterly exhausted.  He had lost count of how many times he had been required to move that stupid marble and he still didn't see how it was ever going to help him when had to face Voldemort again.  

Frustrated and hungry Harry trudged towards the Grate Hall wondering idly if he would run into Ron and Hermione along the way.  Ron had finally been able to get is gem, an amethyst (what was it she had started to call them, a _Kel-gagruw crystal_), to glow nearly as bright as Harry could and had been gloating this over Hermione.  Hermione, on the other hand, was still having trouble with her topaz and had nearly given up several times.  Oddly enough Neville was somewhere between Ron and Hermione.  But, Harry was sure none of them understood his frustration.

As he rounded the corner, which would lead him to the marble stairs to the first floor, he nearly ran headlong into Malfoy, Grabbe and Goyle.

"Well," drawled Malfoy in his usual cold tones, "if it isn't Potter.  Been to seeing Professor Avonell have you?"

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to push past Draco.

"Did you know she a – Psychiatrist, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, blocking Harry's path.  "Are you having emotional problems?  Or are you just going mad?"

Harry steeled himself, "fat lot you know," he grumbled, trying again to get past Malfoy and his cronies. 

"You should really be more careful about the company you keep Potter," Draco continued, "first that Mudblood Granger then that oaf Hagrid and now that shrink Avonell."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "you're the one who needs to be more careful, Malfoy," said Harry through gritted teeth, "or they'll decide you need to see a . . ."

Harry never got a chance to complete his insult for at that moment Professor McGonagall called from the other side of the staircase. 

"Mr. Potter, could I have a word with you?" she said in a crisp tone that dispelled any thought he might have had of protesting.

Harry pushed past the others giving Malfoy an icy glare as he brushed shoulders with him.

Draco descended the stairs snickering, followed closely by his bullish friends.

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall more calmly then Harry had expected, "do try and stay out of trouble."

"I didn't start it," he asserted firmly.

"I realize that, Mr. Potter, but you certainly don't need to encourage Mr. Malfoy by reacting.  Professor Avonell will not be pleased," lectured the Transfiguration Teacher.

"Yes Professor," Harry answered her begrudgingly. 

***

Professor Avonell dropped into her desk chair and contemplated the stack of student's homework she had yet to grade.  Working with Harry was taking more and more out of her, his raw potential was barely under the boy's control and the constant pressure he was unknowingly asserting on her was taking its toll.

There was a tentative knock at the door.

"Come," called Avonell and the door swung open to admit Professor Trelawney.

The Divination Teacher swept into the room, "I must speak with you," she drawled in the breathy tones meant to foster her mystique.

"Professor Trelawney, Sybil isn't it?" sighed Avonell wearily.  "Please drop the pretence and talk straight with me."

Trelawney huffed indignantly, "Just because you don't believe . . ."

"Actually, I do believe, I'm just very worn out at the moment," Avonell interrupted her politely.

Trelawney considered Avonell for a moment, then relaxed, and with a flick of her wand, drew a chair from in front of the fire to the desk.

"I don't have the gift myself," continued Avonell in a conversational tone, "but precognition was not unheard of among my people."

Trelawney's brow furrowed, not fully understanding the comment just made.  She sank down into the chair.

"I've been getting . . . certain impressions . . ." the Divination Teacher began slowly with some hesitation, "Nothing very clear, but very strong."

Avonell looked sympatric.

"Its there, just beyond the shadow's line," continued Trelawney dreamily, "A presence – actually two.  One very malevolent, and one very innocent, and both are connected to — you."

Avonell sat forward and folded her hands on her desk, "is it precognitive or clairvoyant?"  

Trelawney shook her head, "it's not clear, just a very strong feeling.  I can almost see something but . . . I have also felt a sense of pain, both physical and emotional.  I fear something terrible is going to happen to you before this month is out.  But then, there is this odd feeling of joy and contentment over lying it all . . ." her voice trailed off.

"A bit confusing," Avonell soothed, dropping into her therapist's persona, "but I'm curious, why come to me now, when you don't have the full story, Sybil?"

Trelawney sighed, "Because there's more."

 "And that would be?"

Trelawney sat silently staring at her.

"Sybil?" whispered Avonell, "are you all right?"

She nodded and swallowed hard, "The only thing I have seen is a face, a face with such an expression of anger and despair, that I . . .I . . ." there was another silence.

"Do you know this face?" Avonell asked in an ethereal sort of tone.

Trelawney nodded, then quickly shook her head, then drawing herself up and pulling her shawl more closely around herself, she met Avonell's eyes.

"Just, be forewarned," she said returning to her misty seer's voice, "something horrid is about to take place," with that she rose to her feet and swept from the room, leaving a somewhat confused Professor Avonell behind.

"Now, I wonder what that was all about?"  Avonell questioned the air.

"Meow!"  Schön landed on the desk with a muffled thump.  Turing wide green eyes to his companion he let out a long three-syllable meow.

"You think so?" Avonell asked raising an eyebrow, "I'm in danger?  Schön," she sighed, "when am I not in some kind of danger?"

"Mer-ow!" intoned the cat.

"I already knew that," she chuckled,  "or at least suspected that the dark presence was Voldemort, and I think the innocent is most likely Harry."

Schön sat down and blinked slowly back at her

"Oh come on Schön," she replied impatiently, "you are always seeing conspiracies, when there are none."

Schön hissed.

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful." She sighed, "warning well taken."

"I think we would both feel better about this if you actually took it seriously," The computer's voice sounded from the bottom of the stack of parchment.

"Please, don't encourage him CIM," Avonell whined, pulling the computer out from under the stack and opening it.  "Any information on the whereabouts of Nefra yet?"

"None," CIM replied, "but we've been in a black out for the last five hours.  I'll reestablish contact with Dantor and soon as the relay station is within range again." 

"You'll let me know as soon as you find anything?"  Asked Avonell, although she already knew the answer.

"Of course," the computer responded, unemotionally.

***

The Great Hall was already filling with students, when Harry entered.  Spotting Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, he made his way over to them.

"How did it go?" Ron asked brightly as Harry seated himself next to Hermione.

"It went ok," he answered unenthusiastically.  

"I'm beginning to think it's all a bunch of garbage," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Oh come on, Hermione," groaned Ron, "Just because you're not the best . . ." 

"What good is making a gem glow going to do us if we come face to face with . . . you-know-who?" she demanded.

"There's more to it than that," Harry told her gloomily, "and it's not any more fun."

"Fun?  It's not suppose to be fun," Hermione started angrily, but fell into silence, as she spotted Professor Avonell entering the Hall.

"Hermione, you need to give yourself time," Harry soothed, "Professor Avonell said it takes time."

"It's been a month, and I'm no further then when I started," she complained as she watched the Professor's progress up the Hall.

"You do have a lighter color stone then Harry or I," Ron pointed out, "maybe it harder with yours."

Hermione was silent as she stared at the staff table.  Suddenly she jumped to her feet and headed up the hall.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry called after her.  But she paid him no attention.

"She's probably going to quit," Ron moaned, "again."

Hermione marched up the hall to the staff table, to stand directly in front of Avonell.

"Yes, Ms Granger?" Avonell asked looking up at her, "may I help you?"

Hermione pulled her topaz from a pocket and slammed it down onto the Professor's plate with such force that not only did Avonell jump, but also McGonagall who was seated next to the Rune Teacher.

"I quit!" she told Avonell firmly.

Before the youth could pull her hand back, Avonell placed her hand over hers.

"You don't mean that," whispered Avonell, looking the girl directly in the eye. "Give me an hour to eat my dinner, then be in my office and we'll talk."

Hermione wanted to turn away, but something seemed to be stopping her.

_I'll show you something I haven't shown the boys_, she hear Avonell's voice as plainly as if the woman had spoken the words, but her mouth had not moved.

Slowly, Hermione picked her gem back up and nodded very slightly.  She then turned and retreated back to her seat.

"Did you just . . ." started McGonagall in a whisper.

"Yes, I did," Avonell responded turning to her friend. "I can't let her quit Minerva, I believe Ms. Granger is a low grade healer," she looked past McGonagall for a second and her face flushed.  Quickly she turned forward and reached for the nearest bowl.

McGonagall hurriedly glanced at the far end of the table, in time to catch the glare on Professor Snap's face.  She turned back to Avonell.

"I don't think Severus, approves of they way I'm handling the children," Avonell whispered, "and it appears he back to loathing me again."

"I thought he'd gotten over that," McGonagall sighed.

"We finished the scroll yesterday," Avonell informed her as if that was supposed to explain it all.

"Then he's not continuing his studies?"

Avonell looked up at a point somewhere down the hall, "no," she said softly, "he hasn't asked, and I'm not sure he'd accept the offer, even if it was given him."

***

"I'm sorry I'm late," Professor Avonell said as she approached her office door.

Hermione was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, a stern expression on her face.

"Why can't I quit?" Hermione snuffed.

Avonell opened the office door and indicated that she should enter.  Begrudgingly, Hermione walked into the office and took a seat by the fire.

"Hermione," Avonell said gently taking the chair opposite her, "I think you're problem may be that you are trying too hard."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Do you have your _Kel-gagruw_ with you?"

She nodded.

"Take it out and let's try, but rather then trying to make it happen, try allowing it to happen."

Without a word, Hermione removed the topaz from her pocket and held it between her figures.  She knit her eyebrows as she stared at the gem.

"Allow it to glow," said Avonell moving forward in her chair.  "Don't force it."

Hermione tried to relax as she continued to stare into the depths of the stone.

"You're still trying," Avonell whispered, reaching out with both hands toward the girl.  "Here, let me show you."

Hermione shuttered as Avonell brushed her fingertips across her temples and there was a gentle but firm pressure on her thoughts.

_Find the center,_ the words were in Avonell's voice, _relax and let yourself descend into the center._

Hermione felt she was falling into the golden brown of the topaz; the gem seeming to swell until if filled her vision.  She felt herself relax even though her heart was racing.  She could feel the frustration and self doubt ebbing away as she descended further and further into her gem. Then a small light flickered, her heart leapt.

_I'm still with you,_ Avonell's voice said gently, _you have nothing to fear.  Don't push the light.  Call it out.  Call it to life._

The light flickered again.  Slowly, it began to glow brighter, before it flickered one more time before dieing out.

Blinking furiously, Hermione looked up at the Professor, her expression becoming harsh.

"You did that, didn't you?" she accused.  

Avonell was sitting back in her seat, her fingers steepled, the tips resting against her lips. 

"No," she answered lower her hands, "I only guided you.  The light responded to you, not me."

"But . . . I don't understand," she sighed.

"Disciplining the mind isn't about force Hermione, it's about control, focus and willingness." Her teacher told her.

The mantel clock struck the hour.  Hermione glanced up at it in horror.  She'd been in Avonell's office for over an hour.  Looking back at the Professor she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"It's typical," Avonell laughed lightly, "to loose track of time like that.  It's nothing to be concerned with."

Hermione smiled, "I did it?"

Avonell nodded, "now practice what you've learned here tonight and I'll see you latter in the week."

Hermione's step seemed lighter, as she headed back to Gryffindor Tower.  She had done it, she had made, no allowed, the light to glow.  She'd show Ron and Harry.  She'd show them that she could do it.

_Well, _she thought, _after a little more practice._

***

During the next two weeks things remained calm.  Ron, Hermione and Harry continued their training in the Technique.  Ron and Hermione progressed to moving the marble, and Harry began a new phase.

Once again Harry and Professor Avonell sat before the fireplace in her office on a Sunday afternoon.

"We're going to try something new this time," Avonell said as she studied the young man seated before her.  He was maturing into an attractive young man, his body hardened by the physical demands of Quidditch.  The softer facial lines of youth giving way to the strong firm lines of adulthood.  He was going to look a lot like his father, she noted.  Funny, she hadn't noticed this before.  There was a sharp pang of guilt and remorse, stabbing at her very soul.

_No, _she told herself fiercely, feeling her eyes start to burn. _I am not going to buy into that now!  She pushed the feelings from her mind and drew a deep sobering breath._

"On the desk, in my classroom, I've placed an object," she continued, still studying Harry, "I want you to tell me what it is."

Harry blinked in confusion, before he started to get up.

"Sit down," she said softly, "I don't want you to go in there physically."

"Well then," began Harry slightly perturbed, "how am I supposed to know?"

"Now that," she smiled "is what I'm about to teach you.  Its called Sensory Extension, SE for short."

"What good . . ." he started.

"Sometimes Harry, stealth and prior knowledge are important.  Can you see the value of knowing your enemies location, even before you see or hear him?"

"Well, yeah, sure," Harry responded wide-eyed. 

"Do you remember when we were tracking the Death Eater in the dungeons?" She asked.  Harry nodded, "that's how I knew where he was, but Sensory Extension."

"But you said to watch Schön," he interjected.

"Yes, I did tell the three of you that," she smiled, "you couldn't extend and a cat's senses are much sharper then humans."

"Ok, then teach me."

Avonell smiled amusedly.  

  "Start by getting comfortable, and then close your eyes."

Harry snuggled back into his chair and closed his eyes.

"Now, I want you to center your mind," Avonell's voice was like that of a soft breeze flowing over him, "that's good.  Pull your self to the center, breathe in through your nose," she paused, "and out through your mouth." Another pause, "breathe in . . . and . . . out."

The room fell into silence as Harry brought his mind to a calm place, feeling only his steady breathing.

"Now, move your awareness beyond yourself, reach out and into the next room, and tell me what smell, hear and feel."

Harry tried to imagine standing at the back of the Runes classroom.

"I can't see anything," said Harry faintly.

"No not see.  Sight can't be extended.  Just try and sense it."

Slowly Harry let himself relax, and little by little something came to him.

"Hmm, I smell something sweet, like flowers," he said dreamily, "and 

 I can hear . . . it sounds like a caldron bubbling . . ." his voice trailed off.

"Try to move closer," Avonell's voice was a soft whisper, but he heard her quite clearly.

Harry tried to imagine himself walking to the front of the class, nothing became clearer.

"It's cold," he breathed, "not cold no more like cool, very cool," he lapsed into silence.

"Anything else?" 

Harry concentrated hard, but suddenly he could hear something else.  He squeezed his closed eyes tighter and tried hear it more clearly.  It was a heartbeat, no two, no three . . .

His eyes popped open in fear, "There's someone else in here!" he almost shouted.

Avonell gave him a quizzical look.

"There's just you and I, Harry," she said gently, "Schön's not here."

"No," he insisted, "I can hear three heartbeats, mine yours and . . ."

"And mine," she said smiling understandingly, "I have two hearts Harry."

He stared at her unbelievingly, "that's not possible."

"It's possible," smiled Avonell,  "Harry, it's true, I have two hearts."  She held out her hands, "Do you know how to take a pulse?"

He nodded and sat forward reaching out to press his forefingers into each of her writs. He could feel a pulse first in her right wrist, then in her left, then in her right.  He withdrew his hands staring open mouthed at her.

"What are you?" he breathed.

"A medical rarity," she chuckled.  "But, you've done well for your first attempt."

Harry fell back into his chair, suddenly very tired.

"Yes, it takes a lot out of you at first.  But you'll soon learn," she told him, "now there are a few things I need to explain to you."

Harry looked up at her.

"You'll need to practice this, but I want you to be very careful.  Like Truth Reading, this can be abused.  Please don't go listening in on conversations that are not your business," explained Avonell in a very serious tone.  "When you are extended, you are a bit vulnerable, so don't try SE unless you know yourself to be in a safe place."

Harry nodded sleepily.

"Remember, to every act there are consequences," she told him getting to her feet, "now why don't you go back to your dorm and try to regain your strength before dinner."

"Professor, what was in the classroom?" asked Harry as he too got to his feet a bit unsteadily.

Avonell turned to smile at him.  "Why don't you go look for yourself?"

Harry plodded out of the office and into the classroom.  There on the desk at the front of room stood an earthenware bowl, a mist spilling from the rim.  As he approached it he could see the surface bubbling gently, each bubble releasing a smoky mist as it burst, the mist spilling over and traveling along the top of the desk to tumble to the floor.

He reached out and passed his hand through the mist, and it was cool.  And the fragrance of flowers wafted up from the bowl.

Harry smiled.  Dry Ice in water, an old Muggle trick.  Add a little perfume to the water and, well you got this.  He turned and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

***

Tuesday morning, Professor Snape headed to the Great Hall for breakfast early, hoping he might find Professor Avonell there.  She had not made an appearance in the Hall for nearly a week now, preferring to take her meals in her rooms.  He didn't like to admit it, but he missed being in her company, her light heartedness could be annoying, but it was also strangely uplifting for him.  The expertly controlled power that emanated from her was compelling and although he tried not to acknowledge it, he found her pleasing just to look at.

His step faltered only the slightest as he entered the Hall.  There was a scattering of sleepy eyed students already at the four house tables, and at the staff table were Sprout, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick, but Avonell's place was empty.

Snape strode up the hall, his robes billowing theatrically around him, and took his place near one end of the staff table.

He was brooding over his half eaten breakfast when the sound of light laughter wafted into the hall, causing him to look up expectantly.  

Professor Avonell entered the Hall flanked by Ron and Hermione on one side, Harry and Neville on the other and followed by the inevitable Schön, all five laughing over something that had just been said.  She walked with the youths as far as the Gryffindor table and for just a moment, Snape thought she might be planning to sit with them, but he merely patted Neville on the back and proceeded to her place beside McGonagall, still smiling broadly.

So she was in a good mood, Snape mused.  And why not, she had been in the company of her disciples hadn't she?  He sneered at his plate.

Students were trailing in and before long there was the normal drone of many voices filling the room.  Snape chanced a glance down the table in Avonell's direction.  She was half turned in her chair, listening to a joke Dumbledore was telling, but for a brief moment his eyes met hers.  And in that moment she had smiled, lowered her eyes and then raised them back to meet his in that subtle nod of acknowledgement she had given him so often in his youth.  A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

There was the rustling of wings overhead as the Owl Post swept into the Hall from one of its high windows.  All eyes looked up.

Pigwidgeon, Ron's tiny Owl swooped down to the Gryffindor table depositing a note into the boy's plate, then dived headlong at something near the floor.  In a commotion of owl and cat, Pigwidgeon shot upwards, Schön in hot pursuit.  The miniscule owl shot towards the staff table and with a magnificent leap Schön landed on the table directly in front of Professor Avonell.  There was an explosion of porridge as the cat, upon landing, upset a large bowl, sending thick warm cereal splattering everywhere.  Avonell gave a shout of surprise as most of it hit her in the face and upper torso.  

There was silence as all eyes turned to the staff table.

"SCHÖN!" snapped Avonell in grave annoyance, whipping porridge out of her eyes.  She froze, pursing her lips and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to stifle the laughter rising uncontrollably in her.  The silence continued for only a moment, when Avonell lost control and burst into a hardy laugh.

There was a scattering of laughter from both students and staff as Avonell tried to regain her composure.  Managing to control her self, the laughter died away, but when Avonell turned to look at the expression on McGonagall's startled face, she lost it again and wailed with laughter all over again.  Avonell swayed in her chair then toppled out of sight onto the floor still laughing uproariously. 

Dumbledore was in tears with laughter, Sprout was holding her sides, Flitwick pounded the table in sidesplitting laughter and even the normally subdued McGonagall was giggling uncontrollably, her hand over her mouth.  Everyone in the hall was joining in.  Snape scowled as Avonell hauled her self back into her chair, tears streaming down her checks, her face red with the mirth that held her.  Snape pushed his plate aside and lowered his head to the table, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he too gave into the infectiousness of Avonell's laughter. 

"If you will excuse me," Avonell said trying to gain control again, "but I think I need to change before class."

Still chuckling she hurried from the hall.

Something dropped onto the table near Snape's head with a solid thump.  He straightened up to find something wrapped in a white linen handkerchief in front of him.  Still laughing he picked it up and his stomach lurched so that for a second he thought he might lose what little breakfast he had eaten.  Even before opening it, he knew what it was, the silver dragon and ruby ring that had served as his _Kel-gagruw_ crystal when he too had studied the Sevlorian Technique.  No one noticed as he unwrapped the ring with trembling hands, grinning broadly. He slipped it onto his finger, rose and glided from the hall.


	10. One More Secret

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

Avonell wasn't seen outside of her classroom or office for the remainder of the day, due only to her workload, this much to the annoyance of Snape. By evening he had decided to force the issue.

Avonell stepped back from the blackboard and checked her notes again.  She had been transcribing a particularly difficult bit of text in preparation for her first class the next morning.

Snape glided into the room and made his way to the front.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply as he approached her.

"You left me the ring, this morning at breakfast," he said silkily.

She scowled.

"Wasn't it an invitation" he hissed, "to resume my studies?"

"If you want to resume studying the Technique, I'm willing to teach you, but I didn't give you the ring this time.  Dumbledore never gave it back to me," she informed him glancing up at him quickly before looking back at her notes again.

"So you are willing to teach me?" Snape almost purred.

"I'm busy right now," she responded flatly, moving back to the board.

"It seems you've been busy quite a lot lately," he returned evenly, moving a little closer.

Avonell stopped her writing and turned to face him.

"Yes," she returned in a cool voice, "With classes, instructing four students in the Technique and counseling a number of others, yes I've been busy."

She turned back to her work on the board.  Snape stepped in behind her, encircling her waist with his arms and buried his face in the side of her neck.  He was determined to make the best of the opportunity to make known what he'd been wishing to tell her for so long now.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" she said curtly. Trying to move away from him, but he held her tightly.  He kissed her neck then her earlobe, eliciting a shiver from her as she fought back the thrill his breath in her ear had just caused.

"I love you," he breathed, "I have always loved you."

She pulled away from him abruptly.

"I don't respond to lines like that," she sneered, taking another step away from him.

"And I don't need to use 'lines'," he retorted hotly, moving after her.

"Could have fooled me," Avonell muttered under her breath.

Snape move to face her, "Malana, I've been in love with you since . . ."

"Oh don't be so foolish," she snapped, "you are mistaking a childhood crush for love!"  She turned and started for the door to her office.

"I am not a child!" he roared catching up to her at the back of the classroom. He grabbed her by the wrist and turned her back to face him.

"Well, you are certainly acting like one!" she laughed.

He pushed her against the wall roughly, holding her by the wrists and using his body to pin her where she was.

"Tell me you feel nothing," he demanded angrily, "look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing, that you weren't just aroused!"

He knew he was taking a risk, getting physically rough with her the way he was.  If she had a mind to, she could easily beat him in a fair fight.  She was deceptively strong, incredibly agile, and lightening fast.  But he was relying on the fact that, in the past, she had always taken a passive tact with him.

Avonell knew she was trapped, that he could Truth Read her, she had taught him that, years ago.  And even though he had never perfected the technique with anyone else, it didn't matter, he would know if she tried to lie to him.  And she wasn't in the mood to face her own denial. She tried to turn her face away from him, but only drew her arms over her head restricting her movements still further.

"Tell me!" demanded Snape again, his voice an octave lower then normal, making the words sound more like an animal's growl then speech. 

Wrenching her hands free from his grip, she pushed him back roughly, sending him sprawling into the desks.

"There's a hell of a big difference between arousal and love, Severus," she shouted at him as he scrambled back to his feet.

"Then tell me that!  Tell me it was only lust and nothing else!"

"Stop it!"  She banged the door to her office open and stormed inside.

Snape followed, slamming the door closed behind him.

"You can't do it, can you?" he growled, "You can't lie to me, can you?"

"No!" she shouted whipping around to face him. "I . . . I mean yes . . . I mean . . . Damn you, stop this!" Her eyes were blazing, but not with just anger, there was something else there, but he couldn't quite make out what it was.

He approached her slowly, "Tell me the truth!" he said silkily, "tell me you feel nothing for me."

"I can't!" she spat, clinching her fists, and glaring with an intensity that would have made most men squirm.

"You can't or you won't?" he snarled back at her.  "Just what the in the name of Merlin, is going on?  One minute you gave me the impression you are interested," he held her gaze, searching her eyes for a hint of what had alluded him before,  "the next, you push me away . . ."

She tore her eyes from his, but in that one brief moment before she had looked away, he had seen it plainly.

"You're afraid," his voice betraying his astonishment though he hadn't meant it to, "Afraid of what?  Me?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes, as she leaned back against her desk, crossing her arms in front of her,  "Please!  Do you really think you can take me?" she said sarcastically.

Snape tensed, "Don't taunt me like that," he warned dangerously taking a threatening step towards her.

"You really are a piece of work Severus," she sighed, shaking her head. She narrowed her eyes at him, "Afraid of you?  Don't be a fool."

Snape would never truly remember how he had managed to out maneuver her.  The next thing he knew he had her flat on the top of her desk, her arms pined behind her, his body on top of hers holding her down, his mouth clamped tightly over hers, trying desperately to force her jaws open.  She struggled, trying to escape, but her efforts were only serving to excite him.  He ended his attempt to kiss her.

"I could take you right here, right now," he told her in a deep threatening tone, thrusting his hips into hers.  Then just as suddenly he had attached her, he let her go, moving to stand before the fireplace.

"So, what stopped you?" she growled. "Why not just take what you want and be done with it?"

"For the love of Merlin, woman!" he groaned, "I want to make love to you, not rape you."  He stood there staring into the fire for a long moment.  "Why do you deny what I can plainly see in you?"

"What makes you think . . ." she started angrily.

"I can see it in your eyes!" he rounded on her, his anger returning. "I can feel in you presence. You taught me see that, or don't you remember?  Why do you deny the truth of what's inside you?"

"Damn you, Severus!  Because it's one of the conditions the Ministry placed on me after Basil died!" she said heavily, "I've given my word that I would never again become involved with another Wizard."

He only stared at her, wanting her more then he had ever wanted anyone before in his life, but unwilling to take her by force.

"The truth?  You want the truth?"  She began to pace the office, "well here's the bloody truth for you!  As a youth you proved to be a good friend and a gifted student, but that was all!  But they thought it was more.  One kiss, one tentative inexperienced awkward kiss form you in a moment of my weakness, and they accused me of . . .of . . ." she made a growling noise like that of a mad dog, "They wouldn't listen to the truth, and I was exiled for their misconceptions.

"Then – then I come back – what – twenty years latter and … you're an adult, and yes damn it, for some ungodly reason I find you attractive.  I'm drawn to you.  Hell, I might even be in love with you. I DON'T KNOW!  But they are still holding me to those damnable concessions.   Still demanding that I abide by my word.  Reminding me, warning me, telling me to watch my step!"  She drew a sharp breath and continued in a softer, mistier tone, "You haunt my dreams, Severus.  I thrill at your slightest touch, my pulse quickens at just the nearness of you.  And when you smile at me . . . Oh God, I am nearly lost.  I'm not use to being vulnerable like that, and I don't know what to do."

He looked at her, she was breathing hard.  So was he, but was if for the same reason, he wondered, his desire for her swelling uncontrollably.

She stopped her pacing and hugged herself as if suddenly chilled.  "Sometimes I think Dumbledore had it planed this way.  To make sure I had a reason, a motivation, to say and fight.  As if Harry wasn't going to be enough," she turned to meet is gaze, and she said slowly, "I think he wanted me to fall in love with you."

"Is that so bad?" he asked quietly.

She laughed openly, "haven't you been listing to me?  The Ministry will have me out on my ear if . . ."

"To hell, with the Ministry," he whispered, closing the distance between them before she had a chance to react. He slid his hands around her waist and drew her into him. "To hell with all of them!"

He kissed her tenderly.  She tried to push him away, but he held on to her.  He brushed his tongue against her lips and they parted.  He moaned softly as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, playing gently against her tongue, and felt her resistance begin to relax. She slid her arms around his neck, allowing herself to be pulled even tighter into him.  He kissed her cheek, the turn of her jaw, the side of her neck.  She sighed with pleasure and arched her back slightly as he kissed the base of her throat.

"I love you Malana," he whispered, moving his kisses softly down her chest.

She bent her head and whispered into his ear, "I love you," but her words were barely audible.

He straightened up and looked at her, meeting her eyes with his, "tell me again," he breathed, keeping her as tight against him as he could and still gaze into her eyes.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  When she opened them again she met his gaze directly and openly  "I love you, Severus."

He smiled down at her knowing the depth of her words, that glimmer in her eyes, the epitome of the truth in those amazing blue eyes, told him everything he needed to know, he could feel it.  He sought her mouth hungrily with his, and found it willingly open to him.

***

Near morning, the call of nature worried her awake.  She was lying on her side; Severus spooned up tightly behind her, his arm around her waist.  Slowly, carefully she slipped out of his embrace and the bed, and crept silently to the bathroom, closing the door softly.

After answering the call that had awoken her, she stood starring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.  There was a dark smudge on the side of her neck where he had been a bit too zealous.  No matter, it could remove it latter, for now it was fine just as it was.

She smiled sadly.  Her denial now behind her, she had but one more secret she had to keep, and from far more then just Harry this time.

_To every act there is a consequence_, a voice whispered in her head.  It was the telepathic link she shared with the computer.  _You_ _do realize that your timing on this little affair could not have been worse_.

_We've only made love once, _she thought back forcefully.

_But it has been over four hours, and less then twenty-four, _CIM warned.

"Malana?'  His call, although not loud, was tainted with a hint of panic.

She opened the door and stepped out.

 "I'm right here, Severus," she called softly back to him.

_Think of the consequences! _CIM's warning voice echoed inside her mind as she crossed to the bed.

_Oh, do be quiet,_ she retorted, _you are becoming tiresome._

Snape smiled at her as he drew back the sheets.  Avonell smiled in return and shut down the link to the computer as she slipped back into bed, and the arms of her lover.

***

Professor Avonell leaned on her desk, fighting back the wave nausea that had just washed through her.

"Feeling a bit queasy are you?" CIM's voice chided.

Avonell rolled her eyes, "Shut up!" she snapped.  "Any word on Nefra?"

"Last confirmed sighting was in the Traygeon System four days ago," the computer reported.

"That's still too far out to be of any concern," muttered Avonell as she straightened up brushing her bangs out of her eyes.  "Keep looking, I need to know if he gets anywhere near Earth's jump gate."

She sank into the chair as a rush of lightheadedness made her unsteady on her feet.

"Are you all right?" CIM asked scanning Avonell for any abnormal signs.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," she sighed "this will all be over with in a minute or two."

She could hear the students drifting into the classroom and knew she had to regain control if she was going to teach that morning.  She was grateful that Snape had left well before any of this had started.  Pulling her self back to her feet and gathered up the stack of homework she wondered if she was going to have to resort to seeing Poppy about this.  The last thing she need right now was to get sick, and at times the Medi Witch's curs were worse then the illnesses themselves.

She took a deep breath, letting out slowly, before making her way to the classroom.

By the time class was let out, Avonell was feeling better.  Smiling to herself she straightened up her table and with a wave of her hand, whipping the backboard clean.  She then retreated back to her office.

She was taken aback when she opened the office door, to find Professor Snape standing in the middle of the room.  Surely he didn't . . .  

"Izzy said you were ill," he said before she had a chance to question his presence in her office.

"I'm fine," she smiled, closing the door behind her, "I was just – well, tired,"

Snape smiled, "Why would you be tired?" he asked as she approached him.

"I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night," answered Avonell coyly.

Drawing her into his arms he smiled back, "and you won't again tonight either." 

"You think not?" she retorted playfully, just before their lips met.

"I guarantee it," he chuckled between kisses.

***

"Malana, you have a staff meeting in ten minutes," CIM reminded Professor Avonell.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked looking up from the student's homework she was grading.

"It's Friday, you have a staff meeting in ten minutes," the computer repeated tonelessly.

Avonell dropped the quill into its holder and let out a long exasperated breath.  She hated staff meetings, even when she had been a Professor of Psychology at the University in the US she had hated staff meetings.

"Don't I have a student coming?" she asked hopefully.

"No," it was the answer she hadn't wanted.

"Oh well," she sighed, "guess I can't get out of it."

"You need to talk to the Headmaster anyway," CIM reminded her, "about someone to assist you in teaching deflection." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she muttered under her breath.

Resigning herself to the inevitable, she put away the homework papers and left for the staff room.

The meeting was arduous as usual.  Snape had hardly looked at her the whole meeting and had beaten a hasty retreat as soon as it had ended.  Trelawney kept staring at her, her lower lip trembling slightly, and McGonagall had kept nudging her every time her mind had started to drift.  Thankfully, Dumbledore had kept it short, only forty-five minutes.

Avonell stretched her back, trying to work out the kinks as the teachers straggled out of the room.

"It's been a long week," she whispered to McGonagall, who smiled back at her without saying a word.  "Professor Dumbledore," she called his attention, "could I have a word with you?"

"Of course Professor Avonell," he answered, giving McGonagall a quick nod.

McGonagall moved off giving them some privacy. 

"I'm going to need someone to assist me within the next week or two," she started.

"Assist you in what?" asked Dumbledore calmly.

"I'll need someone who can cast spells," she replied wearily, "Harry's next phase will be in deflection and I need someone who can use a wand."

"Oh," he said understanding now, "can't Severus help with that?  I was under the understanding that he had resumed his studies."

"We haven't actually started that yet," she informed him giving him a harsh look, "and you could have warned me about that, you know."  Dumbledore only smiled at this.

"Besides," she continued, "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with putting the two of them in the same room and telling them to cast spells at each other."

Dumbledore chuckled at this.  "I suppose you are right," he said.  "I'll see if I can find you a volunteer," he then turned his attention to Professor Vector who was waiting patently for Dumbledore.

Avonell joined McGonagall at the door to the staff room and together the two women walked into the hallway.

"Do you have any idea why Sybil keeps looking at you like she's never going to see you again?" McGonagall asked as the walked.

"Oh she predicted that something horrible is going to happen to me," sighed Avonell.

"Did she now?" McGonagall said skeptically.  

"Now Minerva," Avonell scorned.

"And what has she predicted this time?"

"She's never really said," Avonell answered wistfully, "just kept talking in vague allusions."

"I'm sure," the older woman snickered.

"Well, I've been urged to take her seriously," Avonell added knowing that the Transfiguration had no tolerance for divination.   

There was a long silence as the made there way towards the Great Hall for dinner.

"Ok Minerva," Avonell broke the silence, "you're dying to ask me something, and don't bother denying it, I can tell."

McGonagall stopped and glanced around.  "Well, it's just that Severus hardly looked at you," she said softly so that only Avonell could hear. "Yet wasn't he wearing the ring?"

Avonell blushed.  "Yes, I think I do remember noticing he had the ring on, why?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "you think you noticed?"

"Dumbledore didn't give that ring back to me," Avonell protested, "he did, it seems, give it back to Severus." She started walking again.

"Well, has he resumed . . ."

"Oh, I suppose we'll get to that, eventually," Avonell blushed again.

McGonagall raised and eyebrow, "are you saying . . ." she trailed off.

"I'm not saying anything, but if you do, remember I'm and expert in plausible deniability."

"Yes," the Transfiguration teacher replied, "but is Severus?"

***

Avonell lay with her head against his chest, listing to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, one arm wrapped around his waist, and one leg entwined with his.  Snape, on his back, his arm around her shoulders, stroked his fingers up and down lightly along her upper arm.  The repetitive sound and sensation was lulling her closer and closer to sleep.  She sighed lightly; she could remain like this for the rest of the night, warm and content.

"Are you sill awake?" he asked very softly.

"Hmm, barley," she whispered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied quietly.

She drew a deep breath and raised herself to look at him.

"Ok, let me rephrase the question," she smiled warmly, "what's on your mind?"

Snape turned onto his side to face her, drawing her into a soft embrace.  He raised his head and moved to kiss her breathing "marry me," just before their lips met.

Avonell pulled back, "sorry, what did you say?"

The smile that had played on his face faded as he repeated himself, "marry me."

She blew out a long breath dropping to her back, and starred at the ceiling watching the flickering shadows cast by the fire.  She remained silent for a long time.

"Severus, I love you, never doubt that," she said at long last, "but marriage?  It would never be permitted, you know that," she turned her head to look at him, "I'm amazed we've gotten away with our affair for these last three days.  They'll exile me again."

"Then I'll leave with you this time," he told her resolutely raising himself onto his elbow.

She smiled and sighed, "who'd of thought you to be a romantic?"

He scowled at her, "you haven't given me an answer," he pointed out.

She gazed deeply into his dark fathomless eyes, the firelight reflecting in them, making his eyes seem softer then the truly were.  He smiled hopefully, at her.  She reached up and caressed his check, and then pulling him down to her, she replied softly, "Yes Severus."

He embraced her tenderly, before reaching behind him to the bedside table and retrieving something.  Turning back to her he slid a ring onto her left hand.

"This was my grandmother's," he whispered, "and now it is yours."

He drew her back into the same position they had been in before they had started this conversation. Sleep resumed its campaign to take her over, so that within a minute or two, Avonell wasn't sure if she had just dreamed the last 10 minutes, or if they had actually taken place.  Surreptitiously she moved her left hand to gaze at the ring now encircling her finger.  She felt and heard him chuckle softly beneath her.  Slowly she let out a soft sigh and permitted sleep to win its battle.

***

Halloween morning dawned gray and misty with a foreboding air.  Avonell awoke to find Snape fully dressed, standing before the fire, staring into the dancing flames.

"Something's wrong," she said pulling on her robe, "what is it?"

Snape didn't answer, he just continued to stair into the fire.  She approached him, not sure what of what would cause him to be so somber, and perceiving a sense of great sorrow and apprehension from him.  She swallowed hard.

"Severus?" she whispered. 

"I have to go, Malana," his voice was grave and not much more then a whisper.

"Go? Go where?"

He turned to face her drawing the sleeve of his left arm up to reveal the Dark Mark that was blazoned there.

"It rose an hour ago," he told her.

"Oh," she replied not able to tear eyes away from the hideous mark marring his other wise unmarked skin.  "Then I . . . guess . . ." she looked up into his face with a wily sort of smile. "What sort of familiar would you like, a dog?  A cat?" her smile became almost wicked, "I know, a hawk."

"No," he shook his head, pushing the sleeve back down over his forearm, "I'm not going to risk taking you with me."

"Be careful, Severus," she said moving to him.

"I will," he breathed embracing her warmly, "we've only just found each other.  I'm in no hurry to have it end."

He kissed her passionately, not wanting to leave, but knowing that he had too. In his mind, he cursed Dumbledore for asking, cursed himself for accepting, the role of spy.

"I must go," he groaned pulling away from her embrace and without looking back, he left the room.

Avonell stood there numb with fear.  The last time Snape had been called by the Dark Lord, he had been tortured to near death.

"Is Miss Malana alright?" 

The voice had startled her, making her jump.  She turned to see the house elf emerging from the hidden panel beside the fireplace.

"Oh Izzy," she sighed sinking into the chair, "I'm truly frightened for him."

The elf approached, extending a steaming mug of coffee to her, her large amber eyes fixed on her mistress.

"Should Izzy follow Professor Snape?"

"No," Avonell whispered accepting the mug, "no, if you were discovered, it might make things worse, for both of you."

"Is there anything Izzy can do for Miss Malana?" she asked timidly.

Avonell smiled down at the little house elf and felt true gratitude.  Dumbledore had assigned this small caring creature to see to her every whim, her every need.  Izzy had no other duties in the Castle, which gave her plenty of time to dote on her charge.  She had even kept Avonell and Snape's affair secret, finding ways of letting them know if they were in danger of being found out.  

Izzy was smaller, and darker skinned then the rest of the Hogwarts house elves and Avonell often wondered if Izzy was as much of an outcast she herself was.

"No Izzy," she sighed, "I think I'll put in an appearance at breakfast this morning.  It's been a while since I've done so."

"Izzy understands," she replied, "mustn't give rumors a chance to start."

"I'm sure they already have," Avonell sighed, sipping her coffee.

"Oh, no mistress," the elf said quietly, moving closer, "Izzy's made sure that no one knows and no rumors have come to Izzy's ears."

"Izzy," Avonell said leaning forward, "what would I do without you?"

Izzy giggled and averted her eyes.

***

Harry crouched in the shadows behind a suit of armor.  The exercise was simple; get from point A to point B without being caught.  He and Professor Avonell had played this before, this time he was the quarry and she the predator.  Since the computer had selected the starting and ending locations, only he knew where he was going.  The whole idea was to learn stealth and hone his abilities to extend his senses.  

He was more then half way there, and had already managed to elude her on three separate occasions.  It was going much easier this time, but she was far more skilled then he, and he expected her to find him at any moment.

Drawing a deep breath, he centered his mind, and moved his hearing beyond himself.  Nothing, only the sound of a couple of students chattering their way to who knew where, came to him.  He moved out of his hiding place and crept down the hall to the next intersection.

It was really rather fun, this game, and Harry's heart pounded with excitement.  Would he make it this time?  He moved off again, only two more hallways, one flight of stairs and he'd have made it.

A few minutes latter Harry reached the statue of the one eyed witch.  He had done it.  He sat down of the base of the statue and waited.  Several minutes latter he glanced at his watch, only 20 minutes before the Halloween banquet started.

_This is odd,_ he thought to himself, _where is Professor Avonell?_

"Meow," Schön bounded up to him.

"Oh, hello Schön," he greeted the cat, looking past him for any sign of the Professor.

Schön let out a very long, very loud cry, and pranced in circles.

"What's wrong?" but no sooner then he had asked the question, he felt a pinprick behind his left ear, and at the same time his scar seared with pain.

***

Avonell stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the third floor.  She knew Harry was only a hallway away, she could hear him, she could smell his sent, she could sense his presence.  As she waited for him to move closer, something intruded on her senses, a familiar presence, one that she had been spending all too much time with lately.  He was moving closer, and if she didn't move soon he would be upon her in a minute to two.

Then something else came to her, a feeling of apprehension, regret, fear, indecision, betrayal, shame and a faint lingering sent of alcohol. Puzzled as to why she would be preserving this from Professor Snape, she turned her attention way from the game she and Harry had been playing, and moved towards the stairs leading down to the first floor.

Snape was coming up the steps looking rather grim.

"Professor?" she called softly.

Snape looked up and smiled, but his smile faded quickly into an expression of uneasiness.  He said nothing as he approached, stopping on the step below her.  He reached out and cupped her check in his hand, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Someone will see," she protested in a whisper pulling back slightly.

Snape slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a brief kiss.

"We need to talk," he told her in a serious voice, and taking her by the arm, drew her down the hallway in the direction of her office.

***

Hermione reached the intersection just as she heard Professor Avonell call softly, "Professor?"

She stopped and peeked around the corner, not wanting to be seen.  Professor Snape had stopped on the last step, his demeanor unlike any she had ever seen in the Potions Master before.  She watched as he raised his hand to Avonell's check and lean towards her.  Avonell pulled back saying something Hermione could not hear.  In the month she had been studying with Professor Avonell, she had only managed the feeblest of lights within her crystal, she was nowhere near being able to extend her senses, and so she strained to try to hear what was being said.

Hermione's mouth fell open and she nearly gasped aloud as Snape drew Avonell's face towards his and kissed her.  He said something to the Rune Teacher then swept her down the hallway and out of sight.

Hermione leaned against the wall, clutching her book to her chest.  Had she really seen what she thought she had seen?  It couldn't be, Snape and – Avonell?  No, she must have imagined it.  Avonell was supposed to be with Harry, why would she then be in the second floor hallway?  Yes she had only imagined seeing Snape kissing Avonell; it had never really happened she decided.

She stepped out into the hallway and made her way back to Gryffindor tower, giving the incident no further thought.

***

Only once they had entered Avonell's office and the door was securely closed behind them, did Snape speak again.

"Malana," he started, but paused turning away, "there's been a new development."

"And that is?" she asked cautiously, trying to keep the strong feeling of doom out of her voice.

Snape sighed deeply, "I've been ordered to bring you before Voldemort – now."

"Oh," she replied in a small voice, her blood running cold in her veins, "surely he doesn't think I'll come willingly."

Snape shook his head as he removed a small glass veil from a pocket in his robes.

"He knows better then that," he said turning back to face her and showing her the veil's contents.  It contained a singe slender silver needle.

"_Kurr,_" she breathed, an icy sick feeling clutching at her chest. "How?"

"You were right, the message was replaced," he told her gloomily, "I've been given a _hie'yel_ address and instructed on how to operate the port here at Hogwarts."

"Then you'll need this," she said, removing the necklace with the _hie'yel_ key.  She handed it to him and then moved to the bookcase.

"Malana, I'm not . . ." he started miserably.

"You have to," she cut him off, "if you don't he will kill you."

The bookcase slid open and she stepped inside, Snape following after her.

"The first few minutes will be the worse," she said walking to stand before the mirror.

"I know," Snape replied remembering his own experience with the drug, "It's a larger dose, you're meant to pass out."

"It will be easier for you to control me that way," she said heavily, as he came to stand beside her.  She took back the key and pressed it into place.  Snape proceeded to press the required sequence of symbols and the room filled with the soft hum of the device, the mirror's surface shimmered to life.

"It's most effective if administered just behind the left ear," she instructed him, pulling her hair away from her neck and tipping her head to expose the desired spot.  

Carefully, he removed the needle and poised it over her skin.

"Forgive me," he pleaded softly.

"You're already forgiven, what ever happens," she reassured him quietly.

Avonell felt the pinprick as the needle penetrated her skin; white-hot fire spread throughout her body from the point of the needle and the world began to spin.  She swayed on her feet and then collapsed into his arms.

Snape scooped her limp body into his arms and taking a deep breath, stepped into the mirror.

***

"Something is wrong," Harry told Ron and Hermione as they made there way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, "something is terribly wrong.  Professor Avonell and I were working on my sensory extension, and she just never showed up."

"Maybe we should tell Dumbledore," Ron urged as they approached the Gryffindor house table.

"I already have, but he told me that without more information, there's nothing he can do," he told them.

Hermione gulped as she realized that both Professor Snape and Professor Avonell's seats were empty.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked as they seated themselves.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied hoarsely.

Harry knew that wasn't the truth, but remembered Avonell telling him he should not always act on that knowledge.

Hermione looked from Snape's empty chair, to Avonell's, taking note of the worried expressions Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore wore.

Harry and Ron took note of this as well.

"If Professor Avonell doesn't show up by the time we've finished eating," Harry muttered to his friends, "I'm going to look for her."


	11. Revenge

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

Snape stepped out of the _hie'yel _event and into a room he didn't recognize.  Still slightly disorientated from the transfer he looked around at the faces of his fellow Death Eaters.  Voldemort moved among them, sweeping his way to stand before him.

"Well done, Snape" the Dark Lord hissed mockingly, "I had begun to think you might have a change in loyalties."

"I have done as I was asked to, my Lord," he replied trying to keep his voice calm and even.

"Goyle!" Voldemort snapped, and Goyle senior, even bigger and more bullish than his son, stepped forward and relived Snape of his burden. "Take her upstairs and prepare her."

Snape watched as she was taken from the room.

"I suppose you are wondering what I plan?" the Dark Lord continued smoothly.

"My Load's wishes are my own," Snape replied obediently, with a slight bow.

"From what Malfoy has told me, I doubt that very much," Voldemort, hissed contemptuously. 

Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the crowed to stand next to the Potions Master, giving him a sadistic smile.  Suddenly Snape's hands were seized and forced painfully behind him.  Someone uttered a spell and his hands were bound tightly.

"Master," Peter Pettigrew had entered the room, "your seer says you must not wait too long." 

"Thank you Wormtail," Voldemort said, then turning back to Snape he added sharply, "Bring him!" 

Snape was pushed roughly forward.  As he was pushed and shoved out of the room, he realized where he was; they were in the Malfoy Manor House.  He cut his eyes to Lucius who smiled cordially back at him.  No one said a word as the Dark Lord lead the procession of Death Eaters up the main staircase and down a hall to a closed door.  

Voldemort stopped and turned back to his minions.

"Bring him forward," he demanded and Snape was dragged to the front of the others.

"I am about to conceive a son, Snape," he said coldly, "and you are going to have the privilege of witnessing my triumph over this woman.  She wouldn't give the secret of immortality, so I'm about to take it from her in the form of a son.  A son whose body I intend to poses, a body that will be immortal." 

Snape struggled to free himself, but the robes binding him only became tighter.

"No, Master there must be . . ." he protested, a sick feeling rising in the pit of his stomach. 

"SILENCE!" the Dark Lord roared, pointing his wand at Snape's chest, "_Curcio_!"

Searing pain wracked Snape's body, making him drop to his knees, but it only lasted a few seconds.

"Forgive me, Master," Snape panted.

"Bring him," Voldemort snarled as he pushed open the door.

Snape was drug into a large bedroom.  There, bound spread eagle to the bed was Professor Avonell.  Still in the deep haze of the _Kurr_ she turned her head towards the sounds, a terrified and dazed expression on her face.  Snape was forced back to his knees a few feet from the bed.

Voldemort waved his wand and Snape watched in horror as Avonell's clothes melted away.

"No, Master, you don't understand," Snape pleaded, struggling to break the grip that held him, "she not immortal!"

"Sedate him!" the Dark Lord bellowed.

"You must do it now," warned a grizzled old woman Snape had never seen before.

"No," groaned Avonell weakly, "please no."

Snape tried to turn his head away from the scene before him, but it was forced back brutally. 

Avonell screamed in terror as the Dark Lord loomed over her.  Snape felt a pinprick behind his ear, followed by the heat of the _Kurr as it spread throughout his body, blackness encroaching around the edges of his mind.  Mercifully he lost conciseness as Avonell's screams of terror and pain dissolved into pitiful wails of anguish. _

***

Schön bounded into the Great Hall just as Ron, Harry and Hermione were starting on dessert.  

"Oh, hello Schön," Harry said as the cat jumped into his lap, "where's Professor Avonell?"

"Yeoooooow" the cat cried, jumping down and running a short distance, before returning and repeating the maneuver.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Hermione said excitedly, getting to her feet.

Harry and Ron did like wise, Ron grabbing several éclairs before starting after his friends.

Schön lead the trio back to Avonell's office, the door automatically opening at the cat's approach.  As Harry entered the office, another stabbing pain shot through his scar.

"What is it?" asked Ron, seeing his friend put his hand to his head.

"My scar," Harry gasped, "it's really bad this time."

Schön was howling and trying to jump up onto the back bookcase.  Harry stumbled to the shelves and tipped the book, making the section slide aside.

"How did you know about that?" Hermione scolded.

Harry busted into the darkened room beyond, the fire springing to life as he entered, his friends following behind timidly.

"I've been in here before," Harry said in a matter-of-fact tone.

He turned toward the mirror and as he expected, the golden chain hung from it.

"She gone," he sighed.

"Gone, gone where?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"How do you know?" Hermione added.

Harry walked slowly to the mirror and pointed to the chain.  "She used the mirror," he told them.

"Mirror, what are you talking about?" Ron blurted out.

"It's some kind of a portal," Harry continued, "I've seen the Professor come out of it, she said she had just come from St. Mungo's."  He put out his hand and touched the very solid surface of the mirror.

"Do you know how it works?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Something has happened, I'm not leaving until she comes back."

***

"You fools!" Voldemort ranted, "I wanted him awake!"

Snape became aware of his surroundings again; through the haze of the drug he could feel himself being lifted roughly back to his knees.  As he opened his eyes, the twisted face of the Dark Lord loomed over him.

Voldemort grabbed a handful of his hair and wrenched his head back to face him. "I have another task for you," he hissed.

"What – what is it, Master," Snape gasped, trying to focus.

"It is done, My Lord," the old woman said in the background, "she carries your child."

Snape grounded miserably, and Voldemort wrenched his head back further.

"You are going to take her back to Hogwarts," he continued in a threatening tone, "and you are going to insure that this pregnancy goes full term. Or you will both suffer a long and horrible death," he released Snape who slumped back to the floor, his hand now unbound.

"Leave them," Voldemort ordered, "he'll need to sleep it off."

The others slowly left the room, leaving Snape where he laid.  Slowly he raised himself up and looked around.  A mirror, similar to the one in Avonell's room, but slightly different in design stood silently in a corner where none had been before, obviously it had been brought up from the parlor.

Avonell lay on the bed, now wrapped in a thick blanket.  Snape got unsteadily to his feet and staggered to the bed, collapsing onto its edge.

"What have I done?" he sobbed, "what have I allowed to happen to you?" he looked down into her face.  In the soft glow of candlelight, he could see her face and neck were bused.  "Dear Merlin, what have I done?" 

Lowering himself to the bed, he wept.

***

Snape awoke some hours latter to the sound of muffled voices outside the room.

"Let them be," a woman's voice cried, "They'll leave as soon as they are able."

"I want to make sure she's still alive," a man's voice answered angrily.

Snape fumbled to his feet, he had recognized the voices, Lucius and Narsica Malfoy.  Shaking off the last of the Kurr, he hurriedly punched the sequence of symbols, which would take them back to Hogwarts.

"Get out of my way!" Malfoy demanded.

Snape took up Avonell's lifeless body in his arms.

"Why?" his wife retorted hotly, "so you can have your way the that whore as well?"

Snape heard the sound of someone being struck, as he ducked his head and stepped into the _Hie'yel_ event.

***

"You must leave," Izzy, begged wringing her hands, "Harry Potter and his friends must not be here."

"I'm not leaving," Harry answered sharply.

"Come on Harry," Ron whined, "we've been here all night."

"Izzy's right," Hermione agreed, "we really should leave."

"I'm not . . ." his words died in his throat as a hum filled the room.

Harry scrambled to his feet, Ron and Hermione backing away as the surface of the mirror rippled and shimmered.

They watched as Professor Snape stepped out of the mirror, carrying Avonell's limp body, still wrapped in a heavy woolen blanket.  Izzy and Hermione both screamed.

Harry, Ron and Hermione expected Snape to explode in anger at them, but instead he addressed them calmly but firmly.

"Wesley, get Madam Pomfrey," he ordered, "Potter go to Dumbledore tell him to come now.  Granger, Izzy I'll need your help," he looked at the boys still standing dumbstruck. "Go, now!"

Ron and Harry bolted from the room.

Snape carried Avonell to the bed and gently laid her upon it.

"Professor, what happened?" Hermione gasped in spite of herself.

"I've failed her, Miss Granger," Snape said heavily as he walked to the wardrobe and remove a nightdress, "put this on her," he said thrusting it into Hermione's hands, and with that he left the room.

Several minutes latter, Hermione entered the office, to find Snape leaning against the mantel of the fireplace he head bowed, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Um, Professor," she started slowly, "we've finished."

"How badly is she hurt?" he asked in a dismal voice.

"I don't know, I'm not a doctor," she answered.

"I know that girl!" he snapped turning to face her, "but you are nearly a woman.  How badly is she hurt?"

She stood there, her mouth open.

"Granger," he growled.

"I think . . ." she stammered, "There's something you should see – on her arm."

Snape's face went pale and he rushed past her, Hermione having to jump out of his way to keep from being run over.  She followed him back into the bedchamber, and approached the end of the bed, where the house elf stood wringing her hands again.

Snape reached out and took hold of Avonell's left wrist turning her arm over to reveal the Dark Mark on the inside of her forearm, a skull with a serpent for a tongue. 

"You bastard," Snape breathed, gently replaceing her arm across her midriff, he then straightening back up and throwing his had back he bellowed, "you filthy bastard!"  

"Severus, such language!" it was McGonagall, she had just entered the room, closely followed by the others.

Madam Pomfrey push past the others, "what is going on here?" she demanded.

Snape moved to the chair and sank down, elbows on his knees, his face in his hands.

"I failed her," he croaked desolately.

"You three," Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron and Hermione, "go back to your dormitories."

"But . . ." all three said at once.

"Don't argue," he told them sternly.

They turned and left, realizing they would loose any argument they might try.

Only once the trio was gone and the bookcase once again closed did Dumbledore turn to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy?" he said gently.

Pomfrey straightened up from her examination of Avonell, looking quite pale and distressed.

"She in a sort of coma," she answered slowly,  "You better have a look at this Albus," she lifted Avonell's arm to reveal the now fading Dark Mark.

"Severus, please explain," Dumbledore said calmly, turning to the Potions Master.

"I was ordered to take her before Voldemort," he said flatly, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his face.

"And she went willingly?"

"She went knowingly."

"Then she didn't take the mark of her own accord?"

Snape shook his head, "she had been drugged."

"This _kurr_?"

"Yes."

"And you?"

"Also drugged."

"Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey said in alarm, interrupting the questioning, "she's . . . she's been . . . been . . ."

"Raped," Snape uttered the single word as if it had been a death sentence.

***

Not until they had reached the main hallway, did anyone say anything.

"Just what the bloody hell happened?" Ron asked coming to a halt.  Harry and Hermione turned to face him.

They exchanged confused looks as Hermione slumped back against the wall and buried her face in her hands.

"Hermione, what's wrong," Harry asked concerned by his friend's reaction.

"Snape had Izzy and I get her into a night gown," she started hesitantly, "oh Harry, she'd been beaten, and there was a Dark Mark on her arm," she slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

Harry sat down next to her, Ron on her other side as she began to cry.

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked in shock, "Avonell would never take the Dark Mark!"

"What are you holding back?" asked Harry in a choked whisper.

"I think . . . I don't know for sure, but I think she had been raped," she wept.

"Snape!" Harry began hotly.

Hermione grabbed his arm.

"No," she said urgently, "not from his reaction," she blinked back the tears.

Harry looked back at her. 

"He nearly exploded when he saw the mark," she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

"We heard," Ron breathed starring at nothing. 

"I . . . I think he may be," she paused afraid to go on.

"What is it Hermione?" Harry pushed gently.

"I think Snape is in love with her," she blurted out.

"What?" Ron gasped turning to face she and Harry, "why do you say that?"

A new wave of tears wracked Hermione.

"I saw him kiss her yesterday, before the Halloween feast," she moaned,  "If I hadn't hidden from them, I might have been able to keep this from happening."  

Harry put his arm around her shoulders, "you don't know that for sure," he said soothingly, "you can't blame yourself."

Ron leaned closer and whispered, "I think he spending too much time with Professor Avonell.  He's starting to sound like her."

Hermione chuckled sadly; leave it to Ron to try to be funny in the face of tragedy.

"It's nearly time for breakfast," Ron added, getting to his feet.  Harry followed and the two boys help Hermione up.

"Leave it to you to think about food," she sighed.

"After breakfast," Harry added thoughtfully, "we could all use some sleep."

Together they trudged off to the Great Hall, in silence.

At the head of the marble stairs leading to the front Hall, Harry stopped abruptly, Ron nearly running into him.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"You guys go on, I'll catch you up in little bit," answered Harry distractedly. "I just remembered something I need to do."

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks.

"We can come with you," Hermione said whipping the last of her teas from her face.

"No," Harry replied trying to keep his voice calm and natural, "I need to do this for myself."

Ron took Hermione by the arm, "maybe he just needs to be alone.  Come on I'm hungry."

Harry watched as his friends started down the stairs and after they had entered through the doors of the Great Hall, did Harry turn on his heel and bolt back down the corridor. 

***

Professor Snape buried his face in his hands again as what had just been said sunk in for the others.  After several seconds of utter silence, Dumbledore turned back to the medi-witch.

"Poppy is she pregnant?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, I believe she is," she answered grimly, turning back to her unconscious patient. 

McGonagall sank onto the edged of the bed, looking very green.

"Minerva, are you all right?" Dumbledore asked putting a hand on the Transfiguration teacher's shoulder.

"Sybil may have foreseen this," she whispered, looking up at the Headmaster. 

Avonell twitched violently, her mouth forming a word, but making no sound.

"She coming around," Pomfrey told them urgently.

Snape shot up from the chair as a terrified shriek filled the room.

Avonell thrashed wildly as if fighting for her life, striking Madam Pomfrey making her stagger backwards.  Snape steadied the Healer then dropped to sit on the edge of the bed beside Avonell.

"NO!" Avonell shrieked again striking out at him. "NOOOO!"

Snape seized her wrists trying to control her, to keep her from hitting him again.

"Malana," called Snape, but it made no difference, she continued to fight him.

"Make him stop," Avonell wailed pitifully,  "Severus, make him stop!" she screamed squeezing her eyes shut, tears streaming out from under her tightly closed eyelids.  She pulled herself up into a sitting position, no long thrashing wildly, but now fighting to break Snap's hold on her.  "OH GOD, MAKE HIM STOP!" 

The others moved toward them.  In the commotion, none of them heard the bookcase slide open again.

"Stay away!" bellowed Snape struggling for some modicum of control over Avonell's frantic attempts to break free. "Malana, you're safe now," he yelled back at her over her screams. "You're back at Hogwarts."

"SEVERUS, HELP ME!" she pleaded desperately.

"I'm here Malana, you're safe," he roared at her.  

Her eyes flew open, she froze in mid scream and for a moment their eyes met.

"You're safe now," whispered Snape.

Slowly she closed her eyes and let herself relax.  Snape released her wrists as she began to weep hysterically, collapsing against his shoulder.  He closed his arms around her, holding her tightly, whispering to her, rocking her gently, and burying his face in her hair to hide his own tears.

***

Harry had been met with a scene he hadn't expected when the bookcase slid open.  Snape was sitting on the bed struggling with a screaming Avonell, the others standing by helplessly.  She had cried out for Snape to help her, yet she was trying to fight him off.  Confused he stepped into the room.

He watched as she froze then collapsed into Snape and he had embraced her.  Suddenly, Dumbledore turned towards him.

"Harry," he started, but Harry was seized with an impulse that overwhelmed him.

Pushing past Dumbledore Harry ran to stand behind Avonell.  He looked down at her, at Snape who held her, as a lover would embrace his beloved, heard him whispering to her, "You're safe now.  No one is going to hurt you.  I won't let them hurt you ever again."  Her sobs where beginning to subside.

"Harry, come away from there," Dumbledore said calmly starting to move forwarded again.

Snape looked up at Harry, his tear stained face half hidden by Avonell's hair. 

Without warning, Harry dropped onto the bed, leaning the side of his face against the back of Avonell's neck and putting his arms around her and Snape in an awkward three way hug.  

For an instant everything stopped, suspended in time.  But only for an instant, the next, Avonell had wrenched herself out of the embrace, screaming again.

"GET OUT!" she shouted scrambling backwards way for them, as if she thought they might try to kill her.

McGonagall moved to the edge of the bed to stop Avonell from falling off.  Harry jumping back to his feet, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a silent scream of his own.

Avonell, half turned into McGonagall, like a frightened child, driving the heals of her hands into her temples.

"GET OUT!" she railed, "Get out of my mind!"

A streak of gray leapt onto the bed and launched itself at Harry, landing squarely in the center of his chest with enough force to knock the boy to the floor.  Harry tore Schön off him and tossed the cat aside.

Scrambling back to his feet, Harry bolted out of Snape's reach, as the older Wizard made a grab at him.

Harry rounded the foot of the bed, fists clinched, his body rigid with anger.

"You never told me!" he shouted, "You never told me!"  He advanced on Dumbledore.

"Harry," Dumbledore started again, but Harry tore past him and out of the room.

With sudden realization of what must have just happened, Professor Snape jumped to his feet and followed after the youth.

Harry raced through the outer office tearing open the door to the classroom, and disappearing towards the front.  Snape followed, stopping at the back of the darkened room.  Harry sank down at a desk in the front row, crying.

"What did you see?" Snape asked firmly trying to keep any tone of anger out of his voice, as he started slowly up between the rows of desks. "What did you take from her?"

"All of it," croaked the boy before putting his head down on the desk.

"How much did you see?"  Snape continued drawing closer to Harry.

Harry sprang to his feet turning rage filled eyes on the Potions Master.

"You've done that before," he shouted, "you've comforted her like that before, when . . . when . . ."

"When?" Snape stopped several feet from Harry, his dark eyes meeting Harry's brilliant green ones.

"After she had that fight with her son – MY FATHER!"  Harry's face was contorted with rage, tears still coursing down his face.  "She's my grandmother!" he continued shouting. "You loved her!"

"I still do," Snape replied softly.

"Then how . . ." his voice dropped to just above a whisper, "how could you let Voldemort do that to her?  How could you let him hurt her like that?"

Snape looked crestfallen, the boy had been right, he had taken all of it.  Harry turned and sank back into the seat.

"Why wasn't I told she was my grandmother," he sobbed, "wasn't I told I still had family?"

"Someday," Snape said, his voice heavy with regret, "you'll under stand.  Someday it will all make sense, I promise you."  Slowly he drew his wand out and pointed it at Harry's back, "_Obliviate_." He whispered.

Harry's body went limp.

"Thank you Severus," Dumbledore's voice sounded from behind him.  Slowly Snape lowered his arm.

"It should never have been kept from him," Snape informed the older Wizard as he turned to face him.

Dumbledore shook his head, "this is the kindest way, Severus."

"I'm not convinced of that," Snape muttered putting away his wand.

"Where you in rapport with her?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"No!" Snape snapped at the accusation. 

"Then he must have done it himself," Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"He is her grandchild," Snape replied glancing back at Harry.

"Poppy's give Malana something to calm her down.  She's asleep now," continued the Headmaster calmly, "Perhaps you should do the same.  You've been through great deal."

Snape gave his a slight sneer.

"Minerva is going to stay with her, for now.  I'll take care of Harry," Dumbledore said looking back at Snape sternly, "Go and get some rest."

Snape left without another word, and headed back to his own office.

He dropped warily into one of the winged chairs by the fire and stared unseeingly into the flames, lost in thought.

"Surely you don't begrudge our Master his revenge?" came a silken voice from the shadows.

Snape jumped to his feet, his hand closing around his wand.

"Now, now Severus, I'm not your enemy," the voice continued as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the pool of light.

"Why are you here, Lucius?" growled Snape menacingly.

"I came to see my son," the other Wizard replied casually.

Snape narrowed his eyes, "that's not why you're here."

Malfoy shrugged, "It's as good a reason as any," he said dryly.  "Surly you are not lamenting over the demise of that wench, are you?"

"Get out," Snape uttered in a low and very dangerous tone.  

"What do you want with the likes of her?" Malfoy continued to taunt, "she's damaged goods now."

"Get out," Snape sneered at him as be began to advance on him, "Get out of my sight!"

Malfoy only smiled, "you know I'm stronger and faster then you are, Severus."

"_Sis'sharr_!"  Snape drawled venomously, "_Naah morr faajqui taahgruw-nu_!"

Malfoy's pale face went even whiter.

"You're a disciple?" breathed Lucius in horror.

"I was, once," answered Snape, his wand now pointing at his fellow Death Eater's heart, "a long time ago."

Malfoy regained his composure.  "You always were drawn to power, Severus, lacking any of your own," he said looking down his nose at the other man.

"GET OUT!"

Malfoy gave him a cold smirk and calmly left.


	12. Aftermath

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

----------------------

Professor Avonell awoke with a start.  It took her several terrifying seconds to remember where she was.  Sitting up she looked around the dark shadowy room.  The fire had nearly died out and the heavy curtains at the windows had been drawn shut against the outside world.  She could just make out a figure stretched out in the chair by the hearth.

"Severus?" she called softly, throwing the blanket off herself.

"No, it me," McGonagall answered as she yawned and stretched.  She waved her wand and the fire sprang back to life.  "How are you feeling?"

Avonell threw her legs over the side of the bed, trying to get her thoughts back into order.

"A bit stiff and sore, but otherwise ok," she sighed. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Only a couple of hours.  Poppy wants you in the hospital wind as soon as possible.  Are you able to walk?" her friend told her sympathetically. 

Avonell shook her head, "not until I get some answers, Minerva," her tone told the McGonagall, there would be no argument on this.

"Very well," McGonagall replied giving in without a fight.

Avonell sat still for several seconds watching her friend, trying to assess the likelihood of getting a straight answer. The fire light cast shifting shadows over McGonagall's features, making her look far older then she was.  Her eyes glistening with reflected light studied her with deep sympathy and concern.

"Where's Severus?"  Avonell asked bluntly.

"Dumbledore sent him back to his own rooms," answered McGonagall, just as bluntly. 

Good, Avonell thought, she wasn't going to have to wheedle the truth out of her.

"And Harry?"

"In the hospital wing."

There was a long silence, as Avonell considered what she had to say next.  It wasn't going to be easy.  She wasn't even sure how much McGonagall knew of what had happened, that Harry had been witness to the stream of memories that had flashed through her mind in those first few moments of consciousness.  But it had to be known, and trying to be subtle about it wasn't going to help.

"Harry managed to establish a rapport.  I don't know how he managed to do it, but he did and he knows, most if all of it," said Avonell in a trembling voice.

McGonagall sighed heavily. 

"He's had a memory charm placed on him.  He remembers none of what he saw in your mind," Dumbledore said from the shadows of the office.

Avonell jumped, turning towards the open entryway, trying to see into the gloom of the room beyond.

"No!" she snapped, "that won't work.  Memory Charms won't give us more then a month or two at the most.  And I will not have more of that barbaric spell cast on him!  It does too much damage!"

"I have faith in the skill of the caster," Dumbledore said stepping into the room, his pale blue eyes fixed on her.

"Harry is only second generation, Albus.  He'll break through that block in time.  And each exposure to me risks his breaking through even more quickly.  We have no choice, we must allow him the memory, or . . ." she paused for effect, hopping to impress upon him the necessity of what she was about to propose. "Or you allow me to enter into rapport with him and I will ward the memory."

Dumbledore shook his head, "and have you set a trigger for the memory to return later?  I think not, Malana."  He regarded her thoughtfully.

Avonell slid from the bed and walked unsteadily around the foot too face the Headmaster, meeting his eyes.  She wasn't about to back down on this one.  She had seen first hand the kind of damage repeated Memory Charms could do, and knew the amount of time and healing that it would require to correct that damage.  She tried a different approach.

"He came by the truth honestly, please don't deny him this," she pleaded softly.  "He's my grandson."

"But to allow him that truth, then we would have to allow him everything else he gleaned from you, and I can't have that, Malana," Dumbledore countered her calmly.  "Do you truly think he is ready to deal with what has been done to you?"

This was not going to be an easy argument to win. Avonell looked back towards McGonagall, hopping for some sign of support. "Can any of us deal with that?" she asked quietly.

"We'll have to," McGonagall replied getting to her feet.  "Why don't we go see Poppy?"

"That can wait," retorted Avonell turning back to Dumbledore, disappointed that her friend hadn't said more in her defense. "Albus, please, consider the damage that will be done, if a second Memory Charm has to be used."

"Madam Pomfrey wants to see you as soon as possible," Dumbledore soothed. "You may be pregnant . . ."

"Of course I'm pregnant," she cut him off sharply, becoming angry at his reluctance to see things her way.  "Don't change the subject!"

"You know that for a fact?" Dumbledore asked raising an eyebrow.

"Albus, I'm a mid grade healer," answered Avonell, rolling her eyes in disbelief.  "Do you think I don't know what goes on in my own body?"

"All the more reason to see Poppy at once," he countered her.

Avonell snatched her robe off the end of the bed and swung it on.  Maybe if she gave into this request, she'd have a better chance of getting him to see reason, and allow Harry the memory of his brief rapport with her. 

"Only if you agree to at least consider what I'm saying about Harry," she said giving the belt of her bathrobe an extra tug.

"I will take it under advisement," he promised.

"Somehow, I think I just lost that argument," Avonell muttered to McGonagall as she allowed herself to be lead from her rooms.

***

Avonell sat awkwardly on a bed at the far end of the Hospital ward, as the medi-witch examined her.  Harry lay asleep on a bed at the opposite end of the ward.  He had been agitated after the charm had been cast and he had come round again, and had been given a sleeping draft.  He was now peacefully oblivious to the goings on in the rest of the Hospital.  She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Don't extend your senses," Dumbledore warned firmly, "I will not have you disturbing Harry at this time."

Avonell glared up at him.  "It wasn't Harry I was trying to sense," she mumbled.

"It's definite," Madam Pomfrey said heavily, straightening up and looking down at Avonell with a mixture of disappointment and concern, "you are pregnant."

"I could have told you that," Avonell huffed indignantly, shifting slightly so that she could see down the row of beds more clearly. 

"Poppy, can it be safely aborted?" asked Dumbledore soberly.

Pomfrey looked up at him and opened her mouth, but never got the chance to answer his question.

"NO!" shouted Avonell indignantly, turning back to them.

"I cannot allow Voldemort an heir," Dumbledore said more firmly.

"It doesn't matter who the father is," Avonell challenged, rising to her feet.  Although quite a bit shorter then the Headmaster, she still had a commanding presence. "He's still my child, and I will not allow you to kill her!"

"Keep your voice down," the Headmaster warned his anger showing itself in both his voice and his eyes.

"If you abort this pregnancy," she spat through gritted teeth, though she kept her voice low.  "Then you have not only killed me, but Severus as well."

Dumbledore stared blankly back at her.

"Voldemort charged Severus with making sure this pregnancy goes full term.  If this child dies . . ." her voice cracked slightly as she spoke.

"I see your point," said the older Wizard thoughtfully looking at her through his half moon spectacles, "but you must understand the danger in doing so."

"I understand better then you think," sighed Avonell sinking back down onto the bed, suddenly feeling very tired.  "Besides, so long as Voldemort believes I'm carrying his heir, I may be safe."

"How do you figure that?"  Dumbledore inquired.

"If Voldemort believes that she's his child, I think he'll leave me alone," she explained softly, "I don't think he'll jeopardize this child's safety.  After all, didn't he send me back to what is possibly the safest place in the whole of the Wizarding world at this time?"

"Yes," Dumbledore continued sitting down beside her. "But we can make him believe the child is still growing within you, even if we terminate the pregnancy now."

"No, Albus, please," she whined. "He's my child too.  She deserves to live as much as any child."

"But the sooner it's done the easier it will be on you," Pomfrey finally spoke up.

Avonell looked up into the face of the Healer, not able to accept that she was agreeing with Dumbledore.

"Not you too, Poppy," Avonell cried, tears welling up in her eyes, "for Merlin's sake, you're a healer.  How can you agree with this?"

Pomfrey looked back at her sympathetically. 

"All right," Dumbledore sighed. "I can see how much this is upsetting you.  We don't need to make a decision today.  But we will need to come to terms with this very soon."

"Agreed," Avonell breathed wiping a tear from her cheek.  Grateful for any additional time she could get out of him.

"We'll talk again tomorrow," Dumbledore said getting back to his feet.  "Poppy will take good care of you in the meantime."

After Dumbledore had left, Madam Pomfrey pulled up a chair and sat down studying her, with compassion.  Avonell hunched slightly in defeat, her mind racing with a thousand ideas and plans to keep Dumbledore from succeeding.  Her eyes unfocused and she drew a long deep breath, willing the fatigue she was feeling to dissipate. 

"As long as the Headmaster permits your pregnancy to continue," Madam Pomfrey started slowly, making Avonell return to the present. "I'll want to see you at least once a week."

"Poppy, this isn't the first time I've been pregnant," Avonell reminded her, pulling herself up into a more dignified posture.

"I understand, but I'd still feel better if I saw you once a week until I'm sure everything's ok."

Avonell nodded resigning herself to the Healer's wishes.  She meant well enough, there was really no need to be upset with her.

"Now lie back and get some rest," the medi-witch told her sternly, before she stood and started towards her other patient. 

Avonell flopped back into the bed, regretting that McGonagall had left so quickly after she had delivered her to the Hospital Wing.  She needed someone to talk to.  Someone she could confide in without the fear of divulging forbidden information.  Why hadn't she guessed what Voldemort had had in mind, why hadn't she simply faked having been given the _Kurr_?  And what of Severus?  Where was he, why wasn't he here, or at least expressing some concern over her condition?  He had not returned after following Harry from her rooms.  She closed her eyes and sighed.  Had she allowed herself to be sucked into some sort of conspiracy?  No, she decided, it hadn't been that.  She had spent too much time in intimate contact with Snape over the last few days, she would have known if he had not been totally honest with her.

She put her arm over her eyes and tried not to over think things.  She was tired and still in some physical pain.  She forced herself to calm her thoughts and turn inward, to the life now growing in her womb.  How was she going to make them see the truth?  There were so many secrets, so many half-truths.

***

Harry was confused.  He remembered arriving back at Professor Avonell's office, with Ron and Hermione the previous evening, but nothing else until he had woken up in the Hospital wing.  Dumbledore had explained how he had passed out and had been found on the floor in her office.  But he had insisted that wasn't the truth, that something had happened, if he could only remember what it had been.  He was sure it had been important that it was something he needed to remember.  

He remembered Madam Pomfrey forcing the sleeping draft down his throat, telling him he needed to clam down and rest.  And in the end Harry had stopped fighting and let himself drop off to sleep.

Now, fully awake, he looked down to the far end of the ward where the curtains had been drawn another bed. Sitting up and retrieving his glasses from the bedside table he wondered who it was.  Slowly it came back to him.  He Ron, and Hermione had been on their way back to the Entrance Hall and had been talking about what they had witnessed in Professor Avonell's bedchamber.  He remembered Hermione telling them she believed the Professor had been raped.  And of Snape's rage at finding . . . finding what?  He shook his head, everything was out of order, he knew that, but he couldn't seem to get things back into their proper place.

"Good, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said as she emerged from behind the hangings at the far end.  She strode purposefully toward him. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, "Who's in the end bed?"

Madam Pomfrey glanced back over her shoulder, "no one you need to be concerned with," she told him, hopping that he would not be able to tell she wasn't being completely truthful with him.

Harry looked intently at her. "It's Professor Avonell, isn't it?" 

"Yes," answered Pomfrey, remembering that she had been told not to offer information, but also not to lie to the boy.   "But she's resting and I don't want you disturbing her."

Thankfully, Harry seemed satisfied with this.

"If you're feeling better, you may leave," she informed him, "but if you feel the slightest bit lightheaded, I want to know right away."

Harry nodded, getting out of the bed. He changed back into his robs quickly and left without another word.   Once he was out the door of the Hospital wing, Ron and Hermione, anxiously hovering in the hallway, met him.

"They wouldn't let us in to see you," Ron explained in hushed tones.

"Is Professor Avonell in there?" Hermione asked nervously.  "What happened to you?"

"Not here," whispered Harry drawing his friends back down the corridor.  "Let's get back to Gryffindor Tower first."

The hurried back to the common room as fast as they dared, not wanting to be noticed by anyone who might stop them.  In the common room they huddled together in a corner, talking in hushed voices.  Ron and Hermione filling him in on what they knew and within a few minutes, Harry had all the events back in their proper order.

"So where did you go?" Ron asked impatiently.  

"I went back to Avonell's office," he told them.  "But I can't remember anything after that."  He was frustrated, something was lurking just beyond his memory, trying to reveal its self, but he just couldn't seem to draw it out.  "I know it was important, I really felt like it was urgent that I get back to her office.  That there was something I needed to do . . . I just can't quite remember what it was."  He flopped back in his chair and starred at the ceiling. 

"Maybe it will come back to you latter," soothed Hermione.  "Sometimes when I stop trying to remember something, it comes back all on its own."

Harry rubbed his eyes.  Hermione was right, if he could just occupy his mind with something else, it might all come back to him.  Resigning himself to the situation he remembered about the homework he and Ron still needed to do before class tomorrow.  It didn't take much persuasion to convince Hermione to drop the subject and let them get to their homework. 

***

No sooner than Madam Pomfrey had released her from the Hospital that evening, Professor Avonell had hurried back to her rooms, convinced that she would find Professor Snape waiting for her.  When she found he wasn't there, she had changed and headed for his office.  She arrived at the door to Snape's office slightly out of breath.  Pausing for a moment to catch her breath before knocking. As she raised her hand to rap on the door there was a loud crash from inside, making her jump slightly.  Taking a deep steadying breath she knocked.

"I told you I don't want to be disturbed!" Snape's muffled voice bellowed from the other side of the massive wooden door.

Checking that there was no one around to hear her she called back to him. "Severus, it's me. Please, let me in." 

There was a moment's silence before the door was flung open.  He regarded her rather coldly, his face pale and covered in a thin film of sweat.  He stood with one hand on the door as if ready to slam it shut in a moments notice.

"What are you doing out of the Hospital?" demanded Snape as if addressing a disrobement student.

"I was released," she informed him pushing past him and entering the office.

The place was in complete disarray.  A caldron lay on the hearth where it had been thrown its contents sill oozing across the floor, thick and sickly green.  Crumbled parchment lay strewn across the desk and floor.  Empty or spilled bottles of potion ingredients where scattered on the desk and worktable.  The air was heavy with a rancid acrid smell.  Snape too looked worse for the ware.  He had splatters of something over the arms and down the front of his robes, and was still holding the remnants of a shattered glass stirring rod.  The shelves looked as if they had been ransacked.  Books had been pulled down and abandoned in chairs, on the desk and even one or two on the floor.  This was not the cluttered but highly organized office of the Hogwarts Potions Master she was use to.  

"What have you been doing in here?" she asked in a small voice as she took all of this in quickly.

"Nothing," Snape muttered with annoyance as the door closed with a resounding snap.  He began absently shuffling the parchments and straightening the mess on his desk.  "Why are you here?"

"I need to talk to you," she said simply, watching him as he gathered a stack of parchment, and walking to the fireplace, tossed them onto the flames.

He stood there watching as the papers curdled and burnt, as the embers were carried up the chimney by the hot currents of the fire.  Even after the last of them had crumbled into ash, he remained motionless, his back to her his hands clasped behind his back.

"How can you stand to look at me?" Snape's voice was a low rumble making it hard for her to understand.  "How can you tolerate being in the same room with me?"

She started towards him carefully stepping over a puddle of some dead and pickled thing on the floor.  Snape moved suddenly away from her as if he thought she would strike out at him.  Avonell stopped and looked at him, then around the office once more.  He bent down and retrieved one of the discarded books from the floor and replaced it on a nearby shelf, still not looking at her.

"Why aren't you shouting at me?  Why aren't you enraged?"  Continued Snape after a long pause.

"I am not angry with you," she whispered in response, realization dawning in her.  He blamed himself for what had happened to her, or at least felt responsible for not preventing it.  "Severus, please . . . I don't hold you responsible . . . " 

"He – raped – you!" bellowed Snape, his deep baritone voice reverberating off the stone walls, "he – put – his – mark – on – you! And I didn't stop him."

"You couldn't stop him," she corrected him gently. "Don't you understand that the way he did it, was more important to him, then what he did?"

Snape didn't answer.

"There are spells and enchantments far more reliable then the course of action Voldemort chose.  But he chose the most brutal, sadistic, humiliating action possible.  It wasn't just about securing an heir, it was about power, control, and pain," she let the room fall into silence before continuing.  "Don't you see his purpose was to break me, and you?  Voldemort meant for you to witness the act, to drive a wedge between you and I.

"You didn't hear the conversation in that bedroom before Voldemort arrived.  Malfoy had told him he believed you had fallen in love with me, that you would try and protect me at any cost to yourself.  Narsicca had overheard her husband bragging about what he had done, and was telling the old Seer about it."

She made another attempt to get closer to him, but he moved away from her advances quickly.  She stopped where she was and studied him.  He was no longer making futile attempts to straighten the office, he just stood there with his back to her.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  He wouldn't even look at her.

"I'll leave," she said heavily, turning and picking her way back across the room to the door.   And just as her hand touched the knob on the heavy wooden door to the hallway, Snape spoke again.

"Then its true, you're . . . pregnant?" he asked in barely a whisper.

She turned back to face him, considering her answer.  He still had his back to her although he had turned his head slightly to look at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Yes," she answered him slowly.

Snape shook his head, turning his eyes away from her again.

"But it's not what you think," added Avonell softly.

Snape turned to face her for the first time since she had entered his office.

"Malana, I sorry I allowed this to happen," he told her, his voice trembling slightly.

"I didn't come here for an apology, Severus.  I don't need – want – your pity or remorse," she told him, her own words shaking as she uttered them.

"Then why did you come to me?" he asked hoarsely. "What is it you want from me?"

"To under stand and believe what I'm about to tell you," she replied letting go of the doorknob and taking one shaky step towards him.  "It's – not – Voldemort's – child," she spoke these last four words as deliberately as possible forcing herself to remain calm.  "Voldemort's Seer was a fool.  She didn't understand how I am different." 

"Then," he stared back at her disbelievingly, "who's?"

She smiled back at him, stiffening a laugh.  He wasn't a stupid man; he just needed to hear it from her, she thought to herself.

"Yours," she breathed.

"But how can you be sure?" 

"Severus, I'm not human, it works differently for me.  I can't conceive on just one encounter," she explained, taking another tentative step towards him.  "There must be a second encounter between 4 and 24 hours after the first.  That's why I was ill the next morning.  I know its not Voldemort's child, because I was already pregnant."

Snape walked unsteadily to a chair and sank down into it, looking away from her again.

"Why . . . why hadn't you told me?"

"Because," she started, moving to stand before him, "because, I was afraid."

He turned his dark eyes back to her, "afraid of what?" he breathed.

"Of . . ." she drew a sharp trembling breath.  Confessions like this weren't easy for her, but she owed him the truth.  "Of loosing you.  Afraid of something going wrong, afraid of . . ." she sighed, "just afraid."

"I should have refused to take you to . . . if I had just not giving you . . ." he chocked looking away once more.

Avonell squatted down, instinctively putting her hands on his knees to steady her self.  She gazed up into his pale drawn face trying to calm her own feelings of regret and fear.

"Should of's and if only's do nothing more the torment us.  They can't change the past," she said evenly searching his face something.  But she wasn't sure what she wanted to find there. "We have to forgive ourselves and move forward."

"I – don't know that – I can," he whispered weakly.  Gone was the steely detached exterior.  Gone were the sneers and sarcasm, what now sat before her confused man, full of regret and pain.

Lightly, she pushed off of him, allowing herself to sit back on the cold stone floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest.  The lingering fumes in the room burned at her eyes.  Her throat constricted slightly, making her words sound chocked and hoarse.

"I know," she replied with difficulty, "I find myself thinking, can he ever see me as his lover again?  Will we ever be able to touch each other again, and not think of this?  And I'm scared, I am so completely terrified."

She bowed her head, resting her forehead on her knees, fighting back the tears and the pain.  She was supposed to be the professional, but damn it, she was involved this time, it had happened to her as well.  There was a soft scraping sound as the chair was pushed backwards.  Then gentle warmth beside her, as Snape lowered himself to the floor.  Hesitantly he put his arms around her and drew her to him.  She didn't resist. 

"I love you.  I have always and will always love you," he whispered, some of the strength returning to his voice.  He had stopped trembling and he held her more securely.  

She rested her had on his shoulder, it didn't matter how trite that sounded, nor even if it was true.  It only matter to her that he held her, and that for the first time since she had come to him, she felt calmer, her fear had begun to wane a little. 

"I love you too," she whispered back, knowing that it was a cliché, but unable to think of anything else to say.  He had always been reluctant to enter into rapport, or she would have sought one now.  But she resisted the urge and eased her arms around him, permitting herself to take comfort in his embrace.

***

"Your intentions a very noble, Severus," Dumbledore said evenly, "but its just not possible."

Professor Snape stood before the Headmaster's desk.  The older Wizard gazed up at him over his half moon glasses, his pale blue eyes studying the younger man intently.  Snape stared back just as intently, trying to convey his determination.  In the moment's silence the myriad of delicate instruments around the office filled the air with their soft whirring and clicking sounds.  For the last half an hour, he had been trying to persuade Dumbledore to agree to his marrying Avonell and he was beginning to get angry at the other man's reluctance.

"Sir, if you won't do this for me, I'll find someone who will," said Snape sternly not allowing his composure to slip under the scrutiny the Headmaster was giving him.  "Even if I have to go into the Muggle world to do it!"

This last statement had been unexpected.  To the best of his knowledge, Severus Snape had never ventured into the Muggle world.  The fact that he was willing to do so now, spoke volumes about his determination.

"Have you given this any thought?" Dumbledore inquired, still calmly watching Snape. "Do you realize the consequences of this?"

"Yes, I have," he answered evenly. Wondering how may more times he was going to repeat himself.

"And Malana, she has agreed to this?"

"Yes," he was getting tired of this, and was on the verge of giving up.  But that would mean that Dumbledore had won, and he wasn't ready to concede the battle, yet.

"You are determined to go through with this?"  Dumbledore asked again, still maintaining eye contact.

"What more do you want me to say?" Snape said tersely, "I've already explained my reasons."

"Would you run through those again?"  Requested Dumbledore sitting back in his chair continuing to watch Snape of any sign of his true intentions.

"It legitimizes the pregnancy," Snape began shortly.  He was beginning to understand why Avonell paced when agitated; it bled off some of the frustration.  But he resisted it and stood his ground.  "The Ministry will be less likely to force her into exile if she married.  It will be awkward for the school to have an unwed mother on its staff," he paused for a heart beat.  "It might give the Dark Lord a sense of security and keep him off our backs," he glared at Dumbledore.  He had already gone into much more detail, but didn't see the use of doing that again.

"I have already spoken to Madam Pomfrey about aborting . . ." Dumbledore sighed.

"No!" snapped Snape, "that would not be wise Headmaster.  That will only make the Dark Lord angry.  Even Malana recognizes that!"

"In all of your explanations, I haven't heard the most important one, Severus," the Headmaster replied softly, as he steepled his fingers in front of him.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the older Wizard, "Sir?" he questioned.

"Do you love her?"  asked Dumbledore sitting forward again his pale eyes seeming to boar directly into the younger man's sole. 

"I . . . I . . ." for just a moment Snape's steely demeanor slipped. Caught off guard, he found it hard to answer this question.  He was not comfortable letting others know that he was capable of such emotions.  Regaining his composure he answered resolutely, "Yes, I do."

Dumbledore sighed deeply, closing his eyes for the first time since Snape had begun his argument.  Dumbledore allow the ensuing quite to envelop him.  He had meant for the two of them to settle their differences, maybe even to come to like each other, but he now wondered if that had been wise.  Things had certainly taken a turn he hadn't anticipated.  Or had they?  What would a union between these two produce?  Maybe, just maybe he had intended things to go this far.  He looked back at the Potions Master.

"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore spoke in a soft weary voice. "Give me an hour, and I'll see what I can do."

Snape allowed him self to relax, and breathed a very small sigh of relief.  He hadn't had to play his last card, the fact that the child Avonell carried was his.  If Dumbledore was unaware that they had had an affair, then so much the better, as far as he was concerned

"I'll meet you in Professor Avonell's office," Dumbledore continue, his face reflecting his apprehension.  "There are special wards on her rooms, it will be safer there."

"Thank you, Sir," Snape said inclining his head slightly, glade to have finally reached the end of this discussion.  He was determined to go through with his plans, with or without Dumbledore's blessing.  And where as he hadn't actually gotten the Headmaster's blessing, at least he had gotten his concession.


	13. The Path of a Healer

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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The end of November was fast approaching, and winter was still making its bid for dominance.  The setting sun turned the gathering clouds, red and purple, making the sky a foreboding sea of flames.  Neville Longbottom starred out the windows of the Runes classroom watching as red and purple mixed and entwine around each other, wondering if a storm was brewing.

"Neville, you're suppose to be concentrating on the sphere, not the clouds," Professor Avonell said gently trying to pull the boy back to his lessons.

"It's no use Professor," Neville whined hopelessly, looking back down at the glass marble in front of the Professor. "I can't do it."

"That, young man, is a defeatists attitude," Avonell said a bit more firmly then she had intended to, but Neville was refusing to let go of years of being told her couldn't do anything right.  The boy looked up at her with his little lost puppy dog look.  "And playing the innocent victim isn't go to work with me either.  You have it in you, I know you do."

Neville turned his attention back to the marble and concentrated.  Small beads of sweat blossomed across his forehead as he narrowed his eyes, willing the marble to move, even just a little.  He gripped the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white and he trembled with the effort.  He was starting to turn blue.  He just had to move that sphere.

"Neville," whispered Avonell, reaching across the table to lay her hand over his, "Breath."

He looked up with a start, "did it move?"  His eyes were wide and a hopeful expression flittered across his face.

Sadly she shook her head.  He wasn't unintelligent, by no means, but learning seemed awfully hard for him.  He wanted so much to succeed, as was the case now, that he just tried too hard, and when he failed, as he inevitably he did, he let his frustration get the best of him.  It was a vicious cycle of failure and loss of self-esteem.  She felt sorry for him.  He had been subjected to too many memory charms and now he was suffering the consequences.

"It's just no use," he complained mournfully, slumping back in his chair. 

"Neville, we all have our strengths and weaknesses," sooth Avonell patting his hand.  "We just haven't found your strength yet.  You did very well with your crystal, you just need to relax and allow yourself move the sphere." 

Neville took a long breath, centering his sight back onto the marble.  Slowly he let his breath out.  He just wanted it to move, just to prove that he could do it.  He'd been ahead of Hermione with his crystal work, but well behind all three when it came to moving the marble.  He just wanted to show them he could do it, just a little, that's all he wanted.  For a second the orb vibrated, it jerked forward an inch, and then rolled smoothly into his waiting hand.

"I DID IT!" he shouted, sitting upright and looking up at Avonell, his eyes wide his mouth open in amazement.  "I did it!"

"Yes, you certainly did," Avonell smiled back, "Neville, I want you to consider something for a moment." She retrieved the marble from his hand and placed it back in the center of the table.  "Each person is unique unto themselves, and at the same time like every one else.  You have to be patient with yourself.  Just because it takes you a little longer to learn something, does not mean you are less then any one else."

Neville looked perplex.  She opened her mouth to continue, but Schön leapt onto the table and batted at the marble sending in rolling way from both of them.

"Purrow," he half purred, half meowed. Turning to face Avonell, his green eyes flashing urgently, his tail standing straight up and quivering.

"Huh?" Avonell muttered, taken off guard, looking down at the animal not understanding what the urgency was. 

"He said your next student is coming," Neville told her as a matter of fact.

Avonell cocked her head at him, her eyes catching the candlelight appearing to twinkle.  "How long have you been able to understand Schön?" she asked.

The boy swallowed hard, averting his eyes and going slightly pink in the face.  He reached out and snatched up the glass sphere and played with it.  He hadn't meant that to slip out.  He had done it again, and his mind raced for a way to answer her question without telling her the truth.

"Ah, I just guessed," he squeaked in a small voice pretending to study the marble in his hand.  "That's all, just guessed."

"Now, Neville," scolded Avonell lightly, "that's not wholly true, now is it?"

He looked up at her, a bit of fear showing in his face, "My Gran says it can't be done, that there's no way I can talk to animals."

Avonell put her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand.  This might not be as easy to explain as she would have liked, but if this boy could understand Schön, then it was quite likely he could understand any animal, and that could prove to be very useful.  She considered her words carefully.  The door to the classroom creaked opened, interrupting her thoughts.  She looked up as Neville twisted in his chair to see who it was.  He snapped back to face her with a frightened look.

"I'm sorry Professor," Avonell said to the new comer. "If I could have just a minute more?"

Professor Snape inclined his head slightly and backed out of the room closing the door as he did.  Avonell returned her gaze to the boy, who still looked frightened.  She smiled warmly at him, trying to put him at ease.

"Professor Snape is your student?" Gasped Neville.

Avonell put a finger to her lips and suppressed a laugh.  She knew the Professor terrified him and wondered if knowing he was in fact, her student would do anything to lessen that terror.  She decided it probably wouldn't.

"Not exactly," she said softly, "it's kind of hard to explain.  But that's not for you to worry with."  She drew a long breath, letting it out slowly.  "Neville, the ability to converse with animals is possible, for a very few, very special people.  We may well have hit upon your special talent."  

Neville's expression changed to one of amazement. "Really?" he breathed.

"Really," she assured him, taking the orb from his hand.  "Now, most people will think you're a little off if you go around telling them this.  As I said it's very rare, so let's just keep it between you, me and Schön, for now, ok?"

Neville nodded enthusiastically, "I won't, I mean I will, I mean . . ."

"I know what you mean," chuckled Avonell giving the boy one last approving smile.  "Now keep up with your exercises and if you get a chance to talk to one of the animals around the school, by all means do so.  Just make sure no one is around to see you."

Neville nodded again, a grin showing its self on his round still boyish face.  Avonell walked him to the door.  She put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him just before he reached for the knob.

"Do me one favor, if you would?" she asked softly.  Neville looked up at her somewhat surprised to be asked such a thing by a teacher.  "Don't mention seeing Professor Snape here today?"

Neville nodded, "I won't," he assured her, giving her a quick wink, as he pulled open the door.

She smiled after the boy, wondering if he really would not mention Snape's appearance.  But if he did, there wasn't much she could do about it.  She turned her attention to the tall shadowy figure standing a short distance down the hall.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asked with just a bit of a bite to her voice, more for the benefit of anyone else who might be listening, then for his.

Snape stepped out of the shadows, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes narrowed and a vague smirk on his face.   "Yes, I did," he said silkily, looking down at her, his dark eyes boring into her.

Avonell, step aside and gestured for him to enter.  He swept into the classroom, his robs brushing against her as he past.  She followed, closing the door behind her.  She watched as he moved to the front of the room, his stride strong and purposeful.  She sighed lightly as reached the table as turned sharply on his heel to face her, a smug expression still gracing his features.  She passed a hand down the door jam, activating the wards she had placed there sometime ago, and smiled.  She only used these wards when Snape was there, having decided that it was not advisable for any of the others to know that he too, was studying the Technique.

"You nearly blew it, Severus, arriving early like that," she told him warningly as she started for the front.  "Neville questioned your arrival."

Snape cocked his head slightly and regarded her before responding, "I was asked to deliver this to you," he said ignoring her last comment and holding out a long slender package.

Avonell handed him the glass sphere in exchange for the curious package.  "Form who?" she asked as she removed a note attached to the plane brown wrappings.

"Professor Dumbledore," Snape answered, placing the sphere on the table.  It rolled smoothly to the opposite end of the table, reversed direction and roll back to rest before the Potions Master.

"Show off," she murmured under her breath.  Snape allowed himself a smile at this comment, watching her unfold the note.  She read it quickly, then with a slight scowl, turned it over as if she expected there to be more on the other side.  Shrugging she handed the note to Snape and began opening the package.  But even as she began the processes she gave a sharp fearful gasp.  Clutching the package to her chest, she turned wide startled eyes to him.

"What is it?" asked Snape, curious as to what would cause such a reaction.

"It's a . . ." Avonell's voice cracked and she nodded to indicate the note he still held.  He looked down at it.

The handwriting was the Headmaster's and read simply '_As they say, in for a penny, in for a pound._'  He looked up at her, not understanding what it meant.

Avonell cleared her throat, "it's an old Muggle saying," she told him, but his expression was still confused. "It means – well – if you're going to break the rules, you might as well break them all."  She relaxed her grip on the package and tore back the wrappings to revel several inches of a wand tip. 

Snape smiled again as Avonell extracted the wand and cast the wrappings aside. 

"Do you know how to use it?" he asked, his tone almost playfully.

"Of course I do," she returned in a similar tone, stepping back from him several paces.  "_Rictusempra!_" she shouted giving the wand a quick flick.

Snape barely had time to deflect the charm, sending it into the blackboard and making it teeter threateningly.

"Hmm," intoned Avonell thoughtfully, "I see we're going to have to work on your aim."  They both smiled.

***

A blazing fire burned brightly under the mantle in Professor Avonell's office. The only sounds were the crackling of the burning logs and the relentless tic tock, tic tock of the clock.  Avonell starred into the flames their blue, white and yellow tongues liking at the cold evening air.  This evening's lesson for Hermione Granger was not going to be easy.  In the stillness Avonell, turned the dagger she held, so that the light glinted off it in shimmering sliver threads.  The path of a Healer was not an easy one, but it was the Winter Solstice and she wanted to start the girl on that road before the Christmas Holidays began.

She glanced at the clock; she still had ten minutes to go.  So many, long, long years ago, she had taken the oath of the Healer, sworn to never cause harm except in defense of her life or the life of an innocent.  And a brutal as the ritual might seem to an outsider, it what she had to do. It had been done to her, and countless others in the name of education.  Avonell's hands trembled, she had never before been placed in the role of teacher of the healing arts, that task had always befallen her mother.  She closed her eyes and remembered.  Remembered back to her childhood and the night her mother had shown her the ways of a Healer.  Something stirred disturbingly inside of her.  She opened her eyes.  So lost in memory, she had not noticed that the tip of the dagger had pierce the skin of her finger.  A single drop of crimson blood beaded on the tip of her left forefinger.   She drew a long breath, letting out slowly as he sealed the wound before wiping away the blood.

There was a knock at the door.  Avonell laid the dagger on the table next to her chair, covering it with a fresh white linen cloth, before standing.  She crossed the room to the door and paused to take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and opening the door and greeting the young woman.

"Good evening Ms. Granger," Avonell said looking down at the girl standing before her.

"You wanted to see me?"  Asked Hermione in a timid voice.  It wasn't her day for a lesson and she had not been told why the Rune Teacher wanted to see her.

"Yes," Avonell replied stepping aside so she could enter the darkened room. "Please, come in."

Hermione entered slowly.  The only light was that from the fire in the hearth.  The air was still, laden with fine wisps of smoke that had escaped the hot drafts of the flue.  She glanced back at the Rune Teacher as the door shut with a muffled click.

"Please, take a seat," Avonell instructed softly, "The one on the left, if you don't mind."

Hermione did as she was told, but an oppressive feeling of apprehension engulfed her as she sat and watched Avonell settle herself in the chair facing her.  The older woman's eyes shown brightly in the reflected firelight, as she smiled at her.  She drew a deep breath, seeming to steel herself for something unpleasant.  Hermione swallowed with some difficultly as her mouth had just gone very dry.

"Hermione, what I'm about to teach you has been passed down through the ages in secrecy," there was a certain heavyheartedness to her voice.  Hermione looked up into her eyes.  "You have, within you a sacred gift and tonight I mean to awaken that gift."  She could feel the girl's anxiety level jump up several notches.  She wished there was a simpler way to do this.

"These are troubled times, and there will be a great need for your gift in the months and years that lay ahead of us," continued Avonell, her voice slipping into a soft monotone, like the soft breezes of summer.

Hermione continued to stare into Avonell's eyes, unable to look away.  She ran her tongue over her dry lips, fear welling up from the pit of her stomach.  She tried to speak, but no words came out.

"Hermione," Avonell's soft voice was compelling and at the same time frightening,  "You are a Healer.  The first one I have seen in nearly 300 years.  But the way of a Healer is not easy, you must know this, and be willing to undertake the charge that will be given you."

"A Healer?" the girl's hoarse voice cracked with fear.

"You have in you the power to heal with only your thoughts," continued Avonell soothingly.  "Your gift is a very rare gift.  But if, within a fortnight, you decide you do not want to follow this path, I can release you from your vow and put your gift to sleep, never to reawaken again.  Are you willing to see the way?" 

Hermione nodded meekly.  Avonell drew her chair closer to the girl's, and sat forward, placing the youth's knees against her own.  Hermione's eyes widened, but didn't leave Avonell's.  She could just see Avonell reached over to the table beside her and picked up a carved shallow wooden bowl and set it to rest in the hollow formed by their knees.

"Now, give me your right hand," Avonell said gently, extending her left hand.

Trembling slightly she placed her hand into Avonell's.  Tenderly, the Professor turned her hand palm up, taking care to position her hand beneath Hermione's, her palm to the back of the girl's hand.  Hermione's hand was cold and clammy compared to the warmth and strength of her own.

"Relax, and close your eyes," the Rune Teacher spoke quietly.  She waited until the girl had done so.  "I've translated the oath as best I can, and I know that the words are going to sound a bit awkward, but I'll need you to repeat them just as you hear them."  Hermione nodded.

"Tonight I awaken the Healer in me," Avonell recited softly.

"Tonight I awaken the Healer in me," repeated Hermione in barely a whisper.

"That I might only perform good."

"That I might only perform good," her voice quivering.

"I shall never seek to do harm to another," Avonell reached over and drew the dagger from under the linen cloth.

"I shall never seek to do harm to another,"  Hermione repeated.

"Nor take the life from a sole . . ." she placed the tip of the weapon only a fraction of an inch above the center of Hermione's palm.

"Nor take the life from a sole . . ."

"Except when my inaction would sacrifice an innocent one," Avonell's hand began to tremble, and she griped the girl's hand more securely.

"Except when my inaction would sacrifice an innocent one."

"That light and life shall always be served."

"That light and life shall always be served."  Hermione's voice trailed off into silence.  She waited, though she was not sure of what.  Then it happened, there was a sharp overwhelming pain in the center of her hand.  Her eyes flew open her mouth dropped in a silent scream, tears streaming down her face.  To her horror the blade of a dagger had been plunged through both her hand and Avonell's.  The firelight reflecting off of it's blade, making it appear to glow.

Avonell was doubled over her free arm across her stomach, her body quaking violently.  Although she still held Hermione's hand tightly, resisting the girl's attempts to pull free.

"Remove – it," Avonell gasped desperately, not looking up.  Hermione hesitated.  "Please, remove the blade!"

Shaking so badly that she was almost unable to do as she was told, Hermione grasped the handle of the dagger and drew it from them, the blade covered in the blood of both women.  Mingled blood dripped onto the basin on their knees, a pool of deep red gathering in its depth, tiny sliver like sparks playing on the surface.  Hermione tried to draw back her hand, but Avonell held it firmly, keeping their hands over the center of the bowl.  Slowly the older woman raised herself up and gazed back into her eyes.  Hermione's lower lip trembled and she wanted to cry out with the pain, but Avonell's eyes held her and she could not move.

Avonell took the dagger from Hermione and dropped it onto the floor where it clanked against the stone of the hearth, small flashes of light dancing around the room from the reflected firelight.  With a trembling hand she dipped her figures into the pool of blood forming in the basin then brought them up to touch Hermione's left temple. 

_You are a Healer, Hermione,_ Avonell's voice echoed inside her head. _Watch and learn._

Hermione turned her eyes to the blood spilling from her wounded hand.  Over the next few minutes, she saw in her mind's eye as the flesh, mussel, tendon and bone of her hand, heal as if no injury had ever been there.  Weakly, Avonell took linen cloth from the table and wiped away the remaining blood, from Hermione's hand, then from her own, as well as the smear on her temple.  Then she placed the cloth into the wooden bowl and tossed them into the fire, the flames flaring for an instant.

"This is only the beginning, there is a great deal more," Avonell said with difficultly, still having trouble catching her breath.  She released the girl's hand.  "I'm sorry, I cannot continue this lesson tonight."  She slumped back into her chair and watched as Hermione examined her own hand.

Hermione turned her hand over and inspected the back.  There was no sign that the dagger had ever passed through it.  Avonell didn't resist as she reached out and took her hand and turned it over several times.  Her amazement showed quite clearly on her face.

"How?" she began timidly.

"You are a Healer, Hermione," Avonell's voice was chocked.  "You have the ability to heal injuries, just as you did a moment ago."

"I did this?"  

Avonell nodded, "I only showed you the way, you healed both yourself and me." She looked deeply into the girl's deep brown eyes.  "I'm sorry for the way it was done," Avonell sighed. "It is an ancient ritual that must be followed.  But I cannot continue tonight.  Please forgive me."

Hermione sat in silence, studying Avonell for several minutes before she spoke again.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

Avonell smiled, "Yes, child, I'm fine.  Now go back to your dorm.  I'll be ok."

Hermione pushed her chair back and stood.  She wasn't sure she wanted to leave Avonell.  She had the feeling something had not gone right, that there had been something unexpected.  Avonell pulled herself up into the chair properly and smiled back at her reassuringly.  Slowly Hermione walked to the door and opened it.  Glancing back at her teacher one last time.  In the deep shadows of the room she saw the Professor put a hand to her head.  The soft sounds of the fire muffled behind the ticking of the clock.  She left the room still unsure of what had just transpired, closing the door gently behind her.

The door clicked shut and Avonell let the silence descend around her like a warm blanket.  At length she leaned over and retrieved the dagger from the floor, turning it in the dying light of the fire.  This one artifact was the last of her mother's positions she still had.  She had known that she would be called upon to use it for the ritual, but she had never imagined it would be on a Muggle born, apparently miracles did still happen.

"You would be proud of me Mother," she spoke to the silence, "And this young Healer will not be my last."  She smiled to herself as she placed the weapon on the table, leaning her head back into the high back of the chair.

Sometime latter, as the fire died to embers, the office door opened slowly, the light from the hallway spilling into the room as unwelcome intruder.  Framed in the doorway a figure stood, their face in deep shadow, back lit by the torch light of the hall.

"Did it go well?" Snape's deep voice whispered from the shadows.

"Yes," answered Avonell.  "Ms. Granger is a stronger Healer then I had suspected."

Snape stepped into the office letting the door swing shut behind him.  He crossed the room silently, stirring the fire back to life with a slight wave of his wand.  He sank into the chair facing her.  Reaching out he took her hands in his and gazed into the azure blueness of her eyes searching for reassurance that she was well.  She was weak, pale and drawn again, just as she had been that night when she had healed him.  He frowned at her, not at all pleased with her condition.

"It took too much from you," he breathed.  "You should not continue."

She smiled warmly and squeezed his hands. "I must.  I am duty bound, as a Healer myself.  There is no one else who can do this."

***

Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower in a daze, still studying her right hand.  It was hard to believe that the blade of a dagger had passed through it, that there had ever been any blood, any pain.  It completely amazed her, and she had been the one to do the healing.  She understood now that what she had seen had actually taken place, that she had been guided by Professor Avonell's knowledge, but that the power had been hers.  She crawled through the portrait hole and into the warm familiar surroundings of the common room, still filled with students.  Beyond the window snow was beginning to fall, by morning the world would be blanketed in white.  She breathed in the warmth and aroma of the room, as if experiencing it for the first time, grinning broadly.

"Hermione," cried Ron looking up from the chessboard spread out between he and Harry.  "Are you alright?  You're grinning like the Cheshire Cat."

"I'm wonderful," answered Hermione dreamily.  She walked over to the boys, and settled onto a squashy poof.

"What did Professor Avonell want?"  Harry added as his knight crushed Ron's Rook, and swept it from the board.

"To show me that I'm a Healer," she answered softly, "Oh Ron, Harry I can Heal people."

The boys exchanged anxious looks between them, and then glanced around the room to see if anyone else had heard, less they think she had gone mad.

"What do you mean, heal?" Ron asserted under his breath.

"I mean," she leaned forward so that only they could hear, "I can heal wounds.  The Professor cut me . . ."

"She what?" Harry blurted out a little louder then he meant to.  Conversations stopped and a number of students turned to look at them.  Harry leaned forward and whispered his question again.

"She showed me how to heal my hand," Hermione continued so that her voice did not carry.  "See," she held out her right hand.

"Doesn't look like you were cut," Ron observed taking her hand and turning over several times.  Hermione blushed slightly, but did not attempt to draw her hand away from him.

"That's just the point," she said.  "I healed it."  She turned to Harry who was looking a bit peaked.  "Harry?"

Harry starred at nothing, something had flashed in his mind.  Something that had made him feel sick.  He had seen bone and flesh, sliced open, raw and caked with dried blood.  But the image had faded as quickly as it had occurred.  And although he chased after the image, it receded from his grasp.  Blinking he looked back at his friends, who were watching him with deep concern.

"Are you ok?  You look like you've just seen a ghost," Hermione gasped.

"Not a ghost," Harry said slowly, "a memory, but I'm not sure of what . . . or who's."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then back to Harry.

"I tell you, ever since Halloween, I keep having these flashes of memories," sighed Harry propping his face in his hands.  "But they're just flashes, I can't make sense of any of them."

"Have you talked to Avonell about them?" Ron asked finally letting go of Hermione's hand.

Harry shook his head, "I don't think it would be a good idea, at least not yet."

"What do you mean?"  Whispered Hermione disconcertedly.

"Something happened," confided Harry leaning in closer to his friends, aware that others in the Common room were watching him. "And I mean more then my passing out."

"Like what?" asked Ron eagerly, glancing around the room hoping they weren't drawing too much attention.

"I'm not sure yet," breathed Harry, "But these flashed, these memories, aren't mine, and . . ." he lowered his voice again so that Ron and Hermione had to almost touch heads with him to hear, "there's more then one person's memories too."

***

Shortly after the Christmas Holidays, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found themselves together in the Rune Classroom.  The desks had been moved to line the walls, leaving the center of the room open.  Harry seated himself on the table at the front of the room and looked around, wondering why they had all been summoned here.  Up until now, their lessons had been separate, and he wasn't sure he liked the change.  Hermione was studying something written on the blackboard, Ron was flipping through a book he had found, and Neville was just standing there looking uneasy.

"Professor Avonell did say six o'clock, didn't she?" asked Harry idly twirling his wand between his fingers.

"That's what she told me," Neville answered glancing at his watch.  "It's fifteen after now."

"She probably got held up at dinner," Hermione chimed in.  She turned from the blackboard and walked over to stand next to Harry.

"How long are suppose to wait for her?" Ron asked slamming the book closed.  "I mean, do we just sit here or what?"

"We should wait," Hermione said in her most authoritative tone, "it could be a test of some sort, for all we know."

There was slight grown from the boys.  Harry turned to look out the window.  It was snowing again.  They had already had several feet of snow this winter.  If it kept up, they wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade this weekend.  He sighed, thinking about the homework he had let pile up, and wondered if he should just leave and tend to it.  The room fell into an awkward silence.

"Maybe we're waiting for someone," Neville suggested in a small voice joining Hermione and Harry.  He hoisted himself to sit on the desk as well, swinging his feet back and forth.

"Yeah, Professor Avonell," complained Ron bitterly.

"Is there anyone else?"  Asked Hermione.  She had never given any thought to the fact that there might be someone besides the four of them studying the Technique.

"Not that I know of," sighed Harry.

"You don't think she might be teaching any Slytherins, do you?" Ron sounded concerned.  "I mean, if Malfoy is learning this as well . . ."

Ron's comment was cut short as the door to the classroom opened.  Professor Avonell entered looking a bit annoyed.  

"Sorry I'm late," she told them, "but I really had wanted another teacher to help with this tonight, and there doesn't seem to be anyone available."  She walked to the front of the room and seated herself beside Neville.  "We are just going to have to be a bit more careful, and use some lesser spells."

"What are we doing tonight?" Harry wanted to know, leaning forward to she her around Neville.

"Well," she stared slowly drawing her wand from a pocket in her skirt.  She flicked it and four chairs detached themselves from the sides of the room and move to face her.

"Hey, you do own a wand!" Ron blurted out.

Avonell smiled and looked down at the object in her hand.  It was a very nice wand, carved out of a single piece of golden brown wood.  The handle was delicately carved with a filigree pattern and the wood had been polished until it looked like it should be soft to the touch.

"Yes," she smiled, "it's a recent acquisition.  A generous gift from the Headmaster."  She looked up at the assembled students, laying the wand on the table beside her.  "Ok, you have all progressed enough that tonight we start the good stuff.  The stuff you've all been waiting for."

All four of the teens moved to the chairs and waited in rapt anticipation.  Avonell regarded each in turn then slid off the desk.

"As I told you some time ago, there are two ways to deal with a spell, hex, or curse, that had been cast at you."  She paced slowly in front of them, each hanging on her every word.  This had been what each had been waiting for.  Even Neville wore a look of excitement.  "Deflection and Disbursement.  Deflection is the easiest of these two to master, but aiming can take a bit of practice."

"Aiming?"  Echoed Hermione.

"I'll get to that in a moment," continued Avonell, not loosing a beat, "deflection, takes the least amount of preparation time.  It's fast, and once you've learned how it's done, you don't really have to think too much about it," she stopped and turned to face them, a very serious expression on her face, "but aiming is very important.  Spells deflected don't loose their potency.  You just redirect them to some place they won't do any harm.  So where as deflection will become a reflex, do try to pay attention to where you are sending them."

"Can't we just send them back to the person who cast them?" asked Harry.  The others nodded in fervent agreement.

Avonell shook her head, "That's not always possible.  Once your opponent figures out what you are doing, they are going to move as soon as they cast.  It's not like dueling, there are no rules in battle." 

Harry, Hermione and Ron smiled.  This was exactly what they had been waiting for, to be able to do what she had done when she had faced the Death Eater in the dungeons at the start of term.  Neville was the only one who looked apprehensive. 

"Now for a bit of a demonstration," Avonell said moving to stand centered in front of them, "Hermione, Professor Flitwick tells me you're very accomplished at spells, would you cast something at me?"

Hermione stood hesitantly looking back at Ron and Harry for support.  She hadn't figured on being asked to cast a spell, no matter how harmless, at a teacher.  She drew out her wand starring at the Professor.

"What should I use?" she asked her voice shaking slightly as she remembered the part of the vow she had taken before the holidays, about not causing harm.

"Something harmless," shrugged Avonell.

"_Rictusempra!_" shouted Hermione suddenly, pointing her wand at Avonell.

Avonell's reaction was instantaneous.  She made an arcing movement with her right hand, palm flat, fingers out stretched. As she completed the arc, she curled her fingers inward, except for the index finger, which she used to point in the direction she wanted the spell to go.  It knocked into the wall, causing the tapestry hanging there to flutter for a moment.  There was a gasp of amazement from all four students, and   Avonell smiled.

"Ok, here's how its done," she began with a small sigh.

With explanations made, Professor Avonell paired the four up, Ron and Hermione, and Harry and Neville and set them to the task of trying the deflection on their own.  Using only simple harmless spells, she watched as they took turns, issuing counter charms when a spell or jinx would go astray.  All four quickly mastered the basics of deflection, but as she feared, spells were shooting off in all directions, with little accuracy, and she was running herself ragged trying to head off the worst of them.  Harry cast jelly legs jinx at Neville who deflected it and sent it heading for the door, just as it began to opened.

"NO!" shouted Avonell, her voice sounding panic-stricken as she lunged in the direction of the door trying to dispel the errant curse.  In her mind she had seen again that dreadful image, just as it had happened that hot July's evening over twenty years ago.  It had been a hastily deflected curse that had taken the life of her husband, and although she knew this curse was nowhere near what that one had been, the reaction had been instinctive, born out of fatigue and distraction.  

At almost the same instant as her shout, the figure in the doorway dispelled the curse into a shower of golden sparks.  All eyes turned.  Standing in the open door, his hand still on the knob stood Professor Snape, his usual scowling sneer on his face.  Avonell sank to the floor her face in her hands, gasping for breath, just as Hermione let out a small scream.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione yelped turning to find him on all fours.  She rushed to his side, the others following after her.  

For an instant, Snape looked between Potter and Avonell, before stepping into the room and letting the door close with a snap behind him.  Harry looked up at the sound, his color pale, beads of sweet glistening on his face.  His eyes met the Potions Master's black eyes for a brief moment, before Snape turned away and moved to Avonell's side.  Harry starred blankly, Snape's eyes should have been cold and unfeeling, or at least there should have been some disgust or even hatred, but it had been almost a pitying look that had graced his features.  He watched as Snape stooped and raised Avonell back to her feet.

"That will be all for tonight," Snape ordered the students sharply, still supporting a dazed and ashen Professor Avonell.  Harry scrambled to his feet, pushing Hermione off him as she tried to help him up.  

"No, wait," Avonell started weakly, reaching out a hand toward Harry as he approached her.

"That will be all!"  Repeated Snape deliberately, closing his hand around Avonell's wrist and forcing her hand back to her side.  He glared at the students, daring them to not do as they had been told.  Neville didn't need to be told again.  He fled to the door and through it open, looking back at his friends, a pleading look urging them to follow.  Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.  Hermione reached out to grab Harry, but he shrugged her off, still advancing toward Avonell and Snape.

"Harry, come on," pleaded Neville still holding the door open.

Harry seemed to come out of a trance, blinking and looking around. 

"What?" he said shakily.  He gaped dumbly, feeling heat rise in his face.  Snape was still support Avonell, though she was regaining her composure rapidly, the color returning to her face as the expression of terror melted briefly into fear, to be replaced quickly with a look of resolute equanimity. 

"Yes, the Professor is right, that will be all for this evening," Avonell said calmly, taking a step away from Snape.  "We'll meet again in one week."

No sooner had the four students left, then she rounded on Snape.

"What the hell were you doing coming in like that!" she snapped her eyes flashing dangerously at him.

"Dumbledore asked me to come and give you some help," returned Snape sharply.

"You took your sweet time getting here!" she growled clinching her fists her entire body shaking.

"I was asked only three minutes ago," he shouted back at her.  "Just what was that all about anyway?"

Avonell slumped where she stood, relaxing her hands and lifting them to her face, her trembling visible.

"He's breaking through," she moaned miserably.

"Breaking through, breaking through what?" Snape asked totally lost.  Then slowly realization began to dawn in him.  "That's how it happened, isn't it?"

Avonell nodded.

"Couldn't he have just been reacting to your panic?" asked Snape more gently.

"No," she shook her head again lower her hands, "just the opposite, I reacted to him.  He saw the memory when the door opened, but he doesn't know how to control the . . . well it's hard to explain, but when a memory is as emotional as that one . . .well, it sort of broadcasts itself."  She glanced towards the door,  "He's breaking through the memory charm.  I warned Albus this was going to happen."


	14. For the Sake of the Innocent

Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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The ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the telltale signs of the impending mid winter storm brewing outside.  Hundreds of floating candles and the torches in their brackets and the glow of the many fireplaces along the walls did much to dispel the gloom.  January was drawing to an end, and winter held the grounds of Hogwarts in its icy clutches, forcing the students to spend all of their free time indoors these days.

Professor Snape sat at his place at the staff table idly watching the students as they entered the Hall for lunch.  A clutch of Ravenclaw girls were milling about near the huge oak doors leading to the Entrance Hall, talking and giggling amongst themselves.  But they fell into silence, all eyes turning, as Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Avonell crossed the threshold into the Great Hall.  The girls watched in silence as the Professors and Healer passed, deep in their own conversation, the girls following their progress with great interest.

One corner of Snape's mouth curled, as he took in the girl's sideways glances before huddling together and whispering to each other again.  He had heard the whispered rumors from both the students and staff alike.  There was a definite thickness about Avonell's abdomen now, and many were talking is hushed tones of how she had 'let herself go'.  He chuckled to himself, let them gossip, let them speculate, it wouldn't be long now before there would be no further need for such nonsense. An arrogant prideful smile played across the Potions Master's face as he watched the three women draw nearer to the staff table. Yes, let them have their fun now, they would all be put in their places soon enough. Avonell glanced up at him as just before she turned toward the end of the table where she sat, one eyebrow rising ever so slightly above the other, a silent hello.  He narrowed his eyes at her, marveling at how much she could communicate to him with just the smallest twitch of a facial muscle, or a slightest flick of her eyes.  If anyone else had known how to read these expressions, if anyone else even thought to look for them, they would have known that there was more to their relationship then met the eye of the casual observer.

Snape glowered at Professor Dumbledore, as Avonell seated herself at the far end of the table, the older Wizard never seeing the look of distain the younger man had just given him.  He resented the request, no it had been an order, that they not openly acknowledge their marriage.  Dumbledore had refused to allow her to take name of Snape, pointing out that it would be too confusing for the students if there were two Professor Snapes on the staff.  The Headmaster had not even permitted her to sit beside him at the table for meals.

Damn, he hated this.  For three months now they had had to deny their relationship when in public, not that there would have been many who would have believed he was capable of such affection.  But it frustrated Snape to no limit, to have to continue to treat his wife like any other Professor at the school.  Not to be able to put an arm around her during a Quidditch match or give her a quick kiss on the cheek when they met in a hallway, where anyone might see them.  Hell, he couldn't even smile to her now.  No, he was expected to ignore her when passing her, or shoot her dark glares, just as he would anyone else.

This was in complete contradiction to half the argument he had given Dumbledore back at the beginning of November, when he had presented his case to the Headmaster, asking him to permit them to be married.  Well, he allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk, that would be changing soon, very soon.  Another month and the child growing within her would be unmistakable and then Dumbledore would have to let it known that the two were husband and wife, and he could drop this insane charade.

The only consolation to all of this was that at least she was in the company of the only other person to know the truth about the child, Professor Minerva McGonagall.  Avonell and McGonagall were close friends and his wife had taken the Transfiguration Teacher into confidence the night they had been wed.  Madam Pomfrey as well as Professor Dumbledore still believed the baby to be the result of a brutal rape at the hands of the Dark Lord nearly three months ago.  The truth was, and this gave Snape pause to smile fully, the child was his.  Conceived three days prior to the events of Halloween night when Voldemort had been led to think that he had conceived an heir in her.

Turning back to his plate, he continued to watch his wife out of the corner of his eye.  Still engaged in conversion, she absently reached out and turned over the wine glass in front her, before taking up the water goblet.  This move had come to be known to the general populace that she would not be partaking in alcohol that meal, not that she ever did, but it also had a meaning to them.  To husband and wife it meant that she was ok, that all was well with mother and child.  If she had simply moved it aside, it would have been cause for concern.

That's right, he thought to himself, she had had another appointment with Madam Pomfrey, that morning.  Good, that meant that things were going as expected.

The women's conversation was interrupted as Avonell suddenly drew a sharp breath, automatically placing her hand on the swelling in her belly.  She smiled warmly, a slight pink rising in her cheeks.  Pomfrey asked her something urgently, in hushed tones, and Avonell's response was slight nod, as she lovingly stroked her hand across her stomach.  Snape suppressed a grin, needing to appear uninterested in the goings on at the other end of the staff table, but he knew what had just happened, the baby had moved.

He was going to be a father, he shook his head, it still seemed somehow unreal to him.  He Severus Snape, the most disliked Professor of any student who had ever sat in one of his potions classes, and they all had taken potions, a family man.  He looked up at the assembled mass of students filling the Great Hall, what did he care what they thought about him?  He had never cared before.  But that was changing.  Searching down the Gryffindor House table his eyes settled on one boy in particular, a raven haired, green-eyed adolescent sitting with his two best friends completely oblivious to the truth.

_If they were to allow you the memory Potter, _he mused to himself, _what would you do to know you were no longer alone?_

***

Professor Snape removed a long hollow glass rod from its wooden box, and examined the hash marks along its surface.  Satisfied he turned back to the worktable and the caldron of gently swirling sliver-blue liquid.  Beside the caldron a dozen tiny glass vials waited to be filled.  Dipping the tapered end of the pipette into the caldron, he placed the other end to his lips and slowly, carefully drew the liquid up to the proper measurement.  Using his figure to stopper it closed, he raised the tip out of the potion, pausing to allow the excess to slither off the exterior of the rod.  Snape held the pipette up to eye level and checked the amount, before taking up the first vial and inserting the tip into it.  As he removed his figure from the end, the liquid drained into the vial, a small amount remaining in the tube.  Placing the end back to his mouth he gave a very small puff, expelling the last drop of potion into the bottle.  He pressed a stopper into the mouth of the vial and held it up into a shaft of sunlight spilling in from a window.  The liquid within swirled sliver and blue, reminding him of more of clouds, then fluid.  It shimmered back at him and he allowed himself a smile.  It had taken nearly every moment of his free time over the last three months to develop this potion, but it would be worth it, he knew that.  Pressing the stopper one last time, he slipped this first vial into a pocket of his robes, then set about the task of filling the remaining bottles.

As he placed the last of the filled vials into a wooden box for safekeeping a voice spoke to him out of the shadowy darkness of the far corner.

"Keeping yourself busy I see," Lucius Malfoy's smooth drawl cut through the quiet like a flash of lightening in a dark sky. 

"How did you get in here?" snarled Snape as he turned to face his old friend.  At least they had been friends at one time, very close friends, maybe a bit more then close friends.  But Malfoy had abused that friendship countless times, and Snape no longer considered this man as such, it now teetered on the edge of pure hatred. 

"I have my ways," Malfoy said coolly stepping from the shadows, sunlight glinting off the silver snakehead handle of his walking stick and shimmered in his silver white hair.  "I've just come to check on — things," he added looking down his nose at Snape.  He gave a slight toss of his head to clear a lock of his hair from his face, wondering if the move would have the same effect it had had so many years ago.

"Avonell, is still pregnant, if that's what you mean," answered Snape in a low growl, as he picked up the box containing the vials and moved to place it into a desk drawer.  It unnerved him that anyone had gotten past his wards, let alone this insufferable excuse of a man.  Even his wife had never gained entry to his office without his permission.

"Have there been any . . . complications?" continued Malfoy smoothly advancing on Snape with a slow self-assured stride.  He gave the younger Wizard a half smile.  It would be so easy for him to press the issue, to seduce this man, as he had once done with the boy.

"None," answered Snape dryly turning to face him, steeling himself against any threat Malfoy might try.  Malfoy could no longer intimidate him and he wanted to make that perfectly clear.

"What have you been brewing?" Malfoy asked casually changing the subject to draw Snape off his guard.  He reached out as if to open the drawer where Snape had just placed the box of vials.  Instinctively, Snape seized him by the wrist, moving his hand away from its target, slowly, deliberately.  He narrowed his eyes looking fixedly back into those cold gray eyes.

"It's for Madam Pomfrey," growled Snape menacingly, increasing the pressure on the other man wrist.

Malfoy looked at the hand holding him in it's vice like grip.  It hurt, but he wasn't about to let Snape know that.  He pulled this hand toward himself, looking back to meet the chilling black eyes of the Potions Master's.  "I was watching you," he told Snape in a low almost whispered voice.  "I've never seen a potion like that before."

"No, I don't doubt that you have," hissed Snape venomously,  "But I can't imagine you being interested in the Healing Arts."  He dug his fingers into Malfoy's flesh, and tried to pull him away from the desk, but the older man resisted, smiling as if this were nothing more then a casual conversation.  Malfoy returned his gaze to his wrist for a moment then back to Snape's face, an expression of deep longing gracing his pale angular features. 

"Ah, Severus," he paused breathing a small sigh, "there was a time when your touch was much more . . . loving."

"THAT," snapped Snape angrily, his eyes narrowing still further, his features hardening into an expression of disgust, "was a very long time ago, Lucius." He let go of Malfoy and moved away from him.  That facet of their relationship had ended even before Malfoy had left Hogwarts.  It seemed like a lifetime ago, and Snape had no desire to revisit it.  He turned back to Malfoy, making no attempt to disguise his disgust and hatred.  "I suggest you leave," he added silkily, "I'm expected elsewhere, and it wouldn't do for me to be late."

"I must see Avonell before I leave," Malfoy drawled icily moving toward the door, ignoring Snape.

"That would not be advisable," said Snape smoothly, stepping into Malfoy's path, blocking his way.

"And why would that be?" 

"One thing you may not be aware of Lucius," continued Snape evenly, meeting the other man's pale gray eyes.  His mouth curled up on one side.  He knew Malfoy had never experienced the affliction of _Kurr_, and was almost tempted to introduce him to the drug's insidious effects.  "When under the influence of _Kurr_, one is still aware of one's surroundings.  You," he moved in closer, glaring coldly at him, "didn't ware a mask, no one did.  Avonell knows who was there, as well as what was done to her," he let his voice trail off into silence, holding the man's gaze and drawing himself up to his most menacing presence he could.  "My word will have to be enough."

Malfoy didn't flinch.  He remained perfectly still for several heartbeats, and then looked away.  "Yes, that is a problem," he murmured softly.  "Very well Severus, I'll not see the bitch – this time."

Snape stiffened, his hand automatically dipping into the pocket of his robs and closing around his wand.  Malfoy swept suddenly from the office.  In his wake, Snape allowed himself to relax.  Knowing that if Malfoy had entered his office once without his permission or knowledge, he would surely do it again, he returned to the desk drawer and removed the box he had just placed there.  He would have to find a safer place for this.  It had taken too long to develop, too many hours of frustration and failure, he could not risk loosing even one precious drop of this potion.

***

Professor Snape reached the top of the stone steps to the dungeons, just as Professor Avonell stepped from the last step of the stairs leading up out of the Entrance Hall.  She glanced in his direction quickly, her expression uneasy as she stepped beside her.  With a light touch to the small of her back, he directed her away from the flow of students toward the Great Hall for dinner.  Retreating toward the far corner, away from the huge double doors and the house tables beyond, Snape swept the Entrance Hall with his gaze.  Satisfied that they were not being watched he turned to Avonell.

"Lucius Malfoy was just in my office," he spoke softly so as not to be overheard, still watching for prying eyes among the students.

"What did he want?" asked Avonell barely moving her lips.  

Snape gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and moved to face her, placing himself between her and the crowd of students.

"I've just said something very nasty to you.  Hit me." he whispered, his face contorting into an evil sneer.

"What?" her voice was louder then she had meant it to be and a number of students stopped and turned toward them.

"I suggest you make it convincing," continued Snape under his breath, "we are being watched."

With blinding speed Avonell cracked him hard across the face, her eyes narrowing, her stomach lurching violently.  Their eyes met for one brief moment, tears welling up in Avonell's eyes.  Perhaps this was just a bit too convincing, he thought, but she suddenly pushed past him and stormed across the hall and through the doors into the Great Hall before he could react.  He followed her with his eyes, rubbing his jaw, seeing Draco out of the corner of his eye, he swept after her, his robs billowing around him.

Avonell turned sharply in front of the staff table and headed toward her end of the table.  At one look at the expression on her face, both Dumbledore and McGonagall got to their feet as she stormed down the table.  Still moving quickly her step faltered.  She staggered forward putting a hand to the side of her neck, then crumpled to the floor.  The room fell into shocked silence as Snape broke into a run.  Dumbledore and McGonagall reached her first, the Transfiguration Teacher dropping to her knees beside the stricken Avonell.  She wasn't unconscious, but from the expression on her face and the growing splotch of discoloration on her neck , Snape recognized the symptoms, _Kurr._  As Dumbledore and McGonagall lifted Avonell to her feet, something dropped from her fingertips.  The Headmaster cast a pained look in Snape's direction as they half carried, half led Avonell toward the antechamber at the front of the Hall.  Snape bent down anad swept up the object Avonell had dropped, careful not to puncher himself with the tiny dart's sharp point.

Snape followed the others into the antechamber and slammed the door behind him, shutting out the student's shouted questions.

"What's wrong with her?" asked McGonagall quickly, turning to Snape with an accusatory look.

"It's the drug," answered Snape indicating a chair.  They eased Avonell into the chair and Dumbledore turned to face him.

"What is the meaning of this!" demanded the Headmaster sharply.

Snape glared at him, "I didn't drug her Albus!  It was this, a blow dart," he snapped, holding up the dart.   McGonagall took it from him gingerly, "be careful, there's still enough on that thing to do you no good."

He was fumbling in the pocket of his robes now; searching for the vial he had filled a short time ago.  God he hadn't lost it, had he?  His figures closed around the cool glass and he relaxed, pulling it out.  The sliver blue liquid swirled within the bottle as he pried the stopper out franticly.   He moved to the chair and lifted Avonell's lolling head.

"Drink," he whispered, pressing the vial to her lips and tipping the fluid into her mouth.

She swallowed, her face screwing up into an expression of severe distaste. She convulsed once then turning away from him and leaning over the side of the chair she retched violently.  Snape straightened up and replaced the stopper, as Avonell turned back to him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Dear sweet God that's the most vile . . ." she trailed off her eyes wide, her mouth opened in astonishment as she looked up at him.

"Would one of you like to explain what's going on?" demanded Dumbledore sternly looking from Avonell to Snape and back.

Not taking her eyes off Snape she grinned broadly, "An antidote?" she breathed, "Albus, Severus has done the impossible.  He's found an antidote to _Kurr_," she giggled, and jumped to her feet, flinging her arms around Snap's neck, and a quick kiss, "I suppose that is why they put the word Master in you title." She chided softly.

"Severus?"  Dumbledore questioned, "How?"

Snape stepped back from her, shrugging in almost a humble manner, a very slight blush showing in his face.

"I still had the sample form Halloween," he told them, "it was just a matter of trial and error."

Dumbledore regarded the Potions Master with great pride.  He always held that he had made the right decision to place Snape in position of Potions Master and not Defiance Against the Dark Arts, and this proved he was right.

"This gives up an advantage," informed Avonell, "now that we have an real antidote, _Kurr_ is no longer a threat."

The door opened and Madam Pomfrey entered quickly, a mass of students was visible beyond the door for a brief moment.  

"What's happened?" the Medi Witch asked, "Everyone is saying Professor Avonell collapsed."

"Every thing is under control Poppy," assured Dumbledore, "but it would be best if you checked her just to make sure."  He turned to McGonagall and added, "Minerva, why don't you stay.  Severus, come with me."

When the door to the antechamber was opened, Harry was at the front of the knot of students waiting outside.

"What happened?  Is Professor Avonell alright?"  Harry asked urgently, trying to see past the two men, for a glimpse into the room beyond, but Snape closed the door, before he could see anything.

"The professor is fine," Dumbledore said calmly putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.  "Why don't we finish our dinner?"

 Harry glanced up at Snape, searching for some sign of reassurance, though he wasn't sure why he should find it there.  Snape kept his expression placid.  Would the boy understand the signals he used with his wife?  Was it possible that Harry could perceive the meaning?  Snape took the chance and contracted the muscles around his left eye very slightly, not enough to actually produce a wink, but just enough to suggest it. 

Harry nodded and looked back to Dumbledore before returning to the Gryffindor table.  He had been slightly surprised to receive any confirmation from the Potions Master, yet he had seen it clearly.  He glanced back, over the heads of the disbursing crowed as Snape moved back to his seat, now sure that his suspicions were correct, that Snape did care about Avonell.

***

During the first week of February winter seemed to be giving up, the sun had been strong and the air warm.  The first weekend of the month was a Hogsmeade weekend and the students had been excited by the promise of good weather for the day.  But the capricious hand of Mother Nature had dealt another blow and by mid morning it had begun to snow again.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville, bedraggled and cold, headed back to the castle well ahead of the other students.  By the time they had traveled halfway up the gravel path leading from the gates of the school, there was at least two inches of snow on the ground.

"Why couldn't it have waited until this evening," complained Ron bitterly as the approached the stairs to the castle.

"Oh Ron," Hermione sighed exasperatedly, "I don't think it started snowing just to annoy you."

Any further argument was forestalled by what sounded like something halfway between a scream and laugh.  The four exchanged quick looks among themselves then turned toward the direction of the sound, all of them trying to be as stealthy as possible.  There was another shout, and as they rounded a corner of the massive stone walls of the school they were met with a sight they hadn't anticipated.  Diving for the cover of some nearby shrubbery they watched the scene unfold. 

The back of Professor Avonell's dark blue velvet cape was splattered with snow where she had been hit with a snowball.  She was brushing snow from the back of her neck, were a second one must have found it's target, her expression half accusatory half playful, as she turned to face the other figure.

"Somehow I find two rouge snowballs hard to believe," she was saying, although they had to strain to hear her.  A few feet away Professor Snape stood casually, his hands clasped in front of him.  Form where he was Harry, he could see Snape's wand concealed from Avonell, behind his forearm.

"Couldn't tell you where they came from," Snape replied evenly, as she approached him still brushing snow from the back of her neck.

She came to stand toe to toe with him giving him a look of playful disbelief.  But Snape gave no reaction; he just stood there looking down at her.  Harry concentrated a moment and extended his hearing towards them, wanting to hear everything.

"Well," Avonell drawled slowly, "if you say so."  She began to turn away from him, but suddenly shouldered him in the chest.  For a split second, Snape flailed trying to maintain his balance, but she pushed again and he fell back onto the ground with a snow muffled thump.  Avonell swiftly dropped to straddle his waist, pinning his wrists with her hands.

"Couldn't tell me where they came from, huh?" she chided softly, nodding to his hand holding the wand.  "And I suppose you had nothing to do with them either?"

"Well," chuckled Snape, "you were such an enchanting target."

"Uh huh," she breathed as she tilted her head and began to lower her face too his.

Harry swallowed hard as he watched her slowly close the distance between them, their mouths opening slightly, Snape's eyes closing in anticipation of what surely was going to be a kiss.  Glancing at his companions, he found them similarly transfixed by what they were witnessing.

A low rumbling, like thunder, or that of a jet plain passing low overhead, split the calm air.  Avonell's head snapped up, her face a study in terror.  She swung off Snape and stood in one graceful, fluid motion, turning to face the Forbidden Forest in the distance.  Snape too returned to his feet, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking puzzled in the direction she was starring.

"Malana?" he asked, "what was that?"

"He's here," crocked Avonell, "he's come to kill me."

"Who? How do you know?" Snape's voice betrayed both his confusion and concern.

"Nefra," breathed Avonell not taking her eyes of the forest.  "He's _Rrokka Kiy_ I can feel him, I can sense him."  She started to move away, but Snape pulled her back. 

"You don't understand," she pleaded with him, "he'll kill everyone at the school if he's given even the slightest reason."  She turned back to face him.  "He's evil and chaotic Severus, maybe even more so then Voldemort."

"If you think I'm going to let my pregnant wife . . ." 

Harry didn't hear any more.  The last three words Snape had spoken struck him a cold icy blow that seemed to penetrate to his very core.  He realized the other three were starring at him.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, apparently none of the others had heard what he had.  Harry gaped at them, unable to repeat the words.

"Look!" Neville squeaked, pointing a shaking figure. 

All four looked back.  Avonell and Snape were at a dead run, headed unmistakably toward the Forbidden Forest.  Avonell, despite her shorter stride, was pulling steadily ahead of Snape.  Harry watched, knowing he had to do something, but unable to formulate any coherent thought.  This wasn't good he knew that.  Nefra or Nefru, had been the one in his dream, the one who seemed to want Professor Avonell destroyed.  

"Neville, find Dumbledore!" snapped Harry turning back to his friends, "Ron, Hermione, round up as many teachers as you can.  Bring them all to the forest, there's going to be trouble."

"Harry," started Hermione in protest.

"Don't argue with me!"  Harry returned hotly, "Just do it!"

"What are you going to do?"  Ron asked in a high voice, starring wide-eyed at his best friend.

"I'm going to follow then," he told Ron as if this should have been self-evident.  "Now move, Avonell could be killed if we don't hurry!" 

Without another word Harry sprinted across the lawn after the two Professors, leaving the others to do his bidding.  Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him in the direction of the front steps, Neville needed no such urging.

***

Avonell penetrated the edge of the Forbidden Forest first, well ahead of Snape.  Several feet into the trees she stopped and looked around, trying to slow her breathing.  She had never been in the forest before and these were not the best conditions for a first foray into the unknown, but if Nefra was here, she hand no other choice.  She drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, willing her hearts to slow their pounding.  Snape skidded to a halt beside her and also scanned the area. 

"Where to?"  He managed to say between gasps.

Avonell held up a hand to quiet him, and closed her eyes.  Magic was thick here and it seemed to close in around her threading to suffocate her.  With great effort she extended her senses trying to locate her nemesis.

Snape leaned forward, his hands on his knees fighting for breath.  Calmly she reached out and placed a hand on his back and his breathing eased.  For several minutes the two stood unmoving.  Harry concealed himself behind a large tree trunk knowing Professor Avonell was extended and praying that she wouldn't realize he was there.  If she knew he had followed them, she would surely send him back to the school. 

At length, Avonell opened her eyes and blinked.

"This way," she whispered, pointing toward the center of the forest.  She took a step in that direction, but Snape held her back.

"At least take this," he said pulling a small vial of the _Kurr_ antidote form his pocket.  "Only take half, it will keep the drug form taking effect."

Taking the vial, she swallowed half of its contents, shuddering as she did so, fighting down the nausea it caused as it swirled in her stomach.  Snape took the vial back and drained the remaining potion himself.  Gathering her cape around her, Avonell started off as swiftly as possible, followed closely by Snape.  Harry followed, moving from tree to tree trying not to be seen or heard.  But the Professors were so intent on what lay ahead, that he needn't have worried.

The further into the forest they moved the denser the trees became, until at last the canopy over head blocked out nearly all of the sky, casting the forest floor into deep shadows.  There was little snow on the ground now, but the dense tangle of roots made the going slower.  After nearly a half an hour of picking their way arduously through the Forest's undergrowth, the trees suddenly gave way to a large level clearing.  The Professors stopped just inside the tree line and Harry hid himself in the hollow formed by tow massive tree roots.  His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of what stood in the clearing. 

The ship was huge, the size of a small house.  Its dark gray metallic surface seemed to absorb the sunlight, giving it an ominous appearance. It stood there on three massive struts reminding Harry of some strange sleeping beast.

"He came in cloaked," whispered Avonell, "I'm surprised he was able to land in all this magic."

"Your technology works," observed Snape calmly.

"True, but it's designed to," she replied softly.  "And it took a hell of a long time to develop."

There was movement near one end of the ship.  Harry hoisted himself up for a better look, careful not to expose himself too much.  Both Snape and Avonell drew their wands and moved into the clearing.  A tall muscular man stepped out form around the ship.  He had to be 6-2 or 6-4 in height, his long brown hair and swarthy skin shown in the light of the late afternoon sun.  His brilliant blue eyes flashed dangerously, as he smiled revealing a perfect sent of white teeth.  He wore a gray sort of uniform, which was trimmed in gold, nothing like the image Harry had seen in his dream, if indeed this was Nefra. Two other men similarly dress followed this man, but they were not nearly as large.  All three were carrying what Harry could only guess, were weapons.

"My dear _Kiy'youn_ Avonell," the first man purred in a deep mellow voice. He opened his arms as if he expected her to embrace him, "How good of you to welcome me personally."

"This is no social call, Nefra," Avonell answered coldly, taking a step closer, but Snape moved quickly to restrain her.

"Ah," Nefra purred again, "you have a champion among these – Wizards," he pronounced the last word as if spitting poison form his mouth.

"They are our legacy, Nefra," Avonell spoke calmly but forcibly.  "You should not speak so ill of them."

"Yours perhaps, but not mine.  But you will find that I too have friends among these people as well," he informed her with malevolent sneer.  With that a fourth figure stepped out of the forest into the clearing several feet from the Professors.

This new comer was obviously a Death Eater as it wore the expressionless white mask and black hooded robes of Voldemort's followers.

"Lucius Malfoy," growled Avonell venomously her entire body tensing in anger and hatred. "I might have known he'd send you."

The Death Eater snorted in amusement before slowly removing his mask and lowering his hood.  "Perceptive as ever, my dear," Malfoy returned arrogance dripping form ever word.  He turned to Nefra and continued deliberately, "leave the wizard to me.  I have a score to settle with Professor Snape.  He called me a _Sis'sharr._"

Avonell turned her gaze to Snape and smiled.  "Did you really?" she asked with mocked astonishment, "Hmm, men have died for lesser insults then that, Severus."

There was a flurry of movement as the two Wizards swung their wands to point at each other and shouted, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Blinding light flashed from the tips of each wand and both Wizards found them ripped form their grips.  Snap's wand landed with a soft thud, only inches from where Harry hid.  Malfoy's was caught by one of Nefra's men and tossed quickly back to the Dark Wizard, who immediately cried "_Crucio!" pointing it back at Snape.  But Snape was able to deflect the curse, sending it off into the trees._

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Nefra, his voice echoing in the clearing like the roar of a lion. "There will be time for that latter!"  He leveled the weapon at Avonell, "tie up the Wizard, and take her wand." He ordered grinning at the two of them.

His two minions approached Snape and seized him roughly, forcing his hands behind his back.

"Please allow me," Malfoy drawled smoothly, stepping closer and uttering a binding charm.  Ropes appeared around Snape's hands and torso, as he was forced to the ground. 

To Harry's surprise Avonell tossed her wand aside and took another step toward Nefra.

"That won't work in here," she warned him icily.

Nefra grinned wider as he pulled the trigger.  Nothing happened. His grin faded into an expression of rage as he tossed the useless weapon aside.  Before anyone else could react, Avonell swept her arms upward shouting a word Harry didn't understand.  But as she did this, a shimmering semicircular wall sprang up around her.  The grin returned to Nefra's face as he did the same, his wall joining hers to enclose the two of them in a circle nearly 20 feet in diameter, the walls bending down to form a glibly shimmering hemisphere.  His men charged forward, but were repelled back as they hit the shimmering.

"Then my _Kiy'youn_ I will kill you with my bear hands," Nefra glowered.  He made a motion as if throwing something, "_Jusraalph!_" he bellowed as a sphere of green light shot from his hand and sped towards Avonell, but she simply waved her hand and the sphere changed direction in mid flight and hit the shimmering, splattering in a shower of brilliant shards before disappearing all together.

"You know I'm stronger then you," she replied dryly, "in a duel Arcane you don't stand a chance."

Nefra's men as well as Malfoy stood transfixed watching the battle within the hemisphere.  Unnoticed by them, Harry raised himself up and reached out for Snape's wand.  But Snape saw the movement.  Twisting around his eyes met Harry's for a moment, and he frowned sternly at the boy, giving him a quick shake of the head.  But Harry couldn't remain uninvolved, he drew his own wand and pointing it at the Potions Master whispered the counter spell and the ropes binding Snape melted away.  Swiftly he tossed Snape's wand back to him and stood.

"_Petrificus Totalus_" Both Snape and Harry shouted at the same time, as if it had all been prearranged.  Both of Nefra's men went rigid and dropped to the ground.  Malfoy whirled on the spot a wild look on his face, as Snape leveled his wand at him.

There was a deafening crack from with in the circle making them all jump.  In the split second of confusion, Malfoy slipped back into the cover of the trees.  Harry charged after the Dark Wizard, but Snape moved swiftly to intercept him.

"There's nothing he can do now," he muttered to the youth as they helplessly turned back to watch the battle before them.

Inside the hemisphere the battle had continued.  Avonell aptly avoiding everything Nefra had thrown at her.  In frustration he charged her.  Harry watched in astonishment as Avonell stepped into his charge and with a twist caught the man and flipped him easily.  Nefra hit the ground with a loud thump, but jumped back to his feet in the blink of an eye.  They circled each other looking for an opportunity to strike.

Avonell spun, kicking out her right foot, contacting Nefra in the center of his chest, knocking back to the ground.  But as he got to his feet again he was holding a sturdy branch in his hands.  He swung it wildly at her, hitting her hard in the stomach.

"NOOOO!" wailed Snape in anguish lurching forward as Avonell doubled over with the blow, but Harry caught him by the arm and pulled him back.

Nefra had turned at the sound and Avonell took the advantage and hurled herself at her opponent.  He hit the ground with a loud thud, landing face down in the leaf litter of the clearing.  Avonell dropped down, pushing on knee into the small of his back and wrapping one arm around his neck, pulled him up, bending him painfully at the waist.  Nefra grabbed at her arm, just as she placed her hand at the side of his head and pushed sharply.  A sickening crack filled the air and Nefra, eyes wide mouth opened went limp. Everything seemed to stand still for a moment, before Avonell let the lifeless body slump back to the ground.  She stood and staggered backwards a few steps as Nefra's half of the shimmer vanished.  Crossing her arms over her stomach, Avonell fell to her knees, crying out in pain.  

Snape broke Harry's hold as Avonell's half of the wall faded away and rushed to her side.  There were voices in the distance now, and Harry turned towards them recognizing them as Dumbledore's and several of the teachers.

"Over here!" he shouted searching for sight of them.

As Snape knelt beside her, Avonell looked up at him, tears streaking her face.  She tried to speak, but was only able to utter a feeble squeak.

"The baby?" whispered Snape, now able to hear the approaching crowd.  "How badly are you hurt?"

She shook her head slowly casting her eyes downward.  She was quaking violently now and she let herself slip sideways to sit on the ground.  "I've killed," she croaked painfully.  "Oh God Severus, I've killed."

"You had not other choice," he tried to comfort her, taking her into his arms, no longer concerned who might see them.  "He'd have killed you if you hadn't."

"You . . .you d-don't under . . . s-stand . . ." she stammered, trying to push away from him, her words causing her more pain, "our . . . our c-child . . . i-is a . . . a . . . he-healer."  Her last words had barely any breath behind them, and for a moment he wasn't sure he had heard her.  She lifted her eyes to his for one brief moment, before they drifted shut as her body relaxed into total flaccidity.

"No," breathe Snape miserably, cradling her to his chest, fear taking a firm grip on him,  "no, this can't be."  Tears burned in his eyes as Dumbledore, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey burst into the clearing, followed by the rest of the Hogwarts faculty.


End file.
